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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25151326">a forest of old growth between us</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/samshepard/pseuds/samshepard'>samshepard</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adora is a dumbass lesbian, Adora is both smart and stupid, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Catra is a STEM major, Catra is a repressed lesbian, College, Eventual Romance, Eventual sexual content (probably), F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Glimmer is bi because look at her color scheme, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Homophobia, JROTC redemption arc lol, Let Catra (She-Ra) Say Fuck, Multi, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Slowest burn possible, THE GIRLS ARE HEALING but not for a hot second, The horde kids grew up together in foster care, Trans Bow (She-Ra), Trans Perfuma (She-Ra), Unresolved Sexual Tension, and they were classmates, deadass let EVERYONE say fuck, lots of swearing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:29:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>80,025</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25151326</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/samshepard/pseuds/samshepard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Catra and Adora grew up together in foster care. After a violent falling-out near the end of high school, they barely talk or see each other for the next three years. When they do, it goes...poorly.</p><p>So what happens when Catra gets her shit together, transfers from community college to a four-year university, and runs into a certain irritating blonde?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra), Kyle/Lonnie/Rogelio (She-Ra), Perfuma/Scorpia (She-Ra)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>350</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>406</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. a fresh start</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is straight up a totally human, very American college AU. No magic, just angst, classes, parties, and that sweet sweet friends to enemies to lovers. Be warned that some topics (alcohol abuse, child neglect, etc.) are gonna be pretty heavy, especially as we move through the fic.</p><p>It's going to be A VERY SLOW BURN with lots of teasing inbetween. The first 2 chapters are mostly set up; the action starts in chapter 3.</p><p>There's a lot of slang but everything should be googleable. </p><p>Quick note: JROTC = junior reserve officer training corps (a high school class/program that is basically a military-style class).<br/>Someone on tumblr called She-Ra a "jrotc redemption arc" and i haven't been able to get it out of my mind, so as a former JROTC student myself, I couldn't help but include it.</p><p>Find me on tumblr ( https://samshepard.tumblr.com/ ) for more gay shit. I'm hoping to update this on a weekly basis.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <em>An argument, a separation. Isn't that how it always went? Same dream, again and again.</em>
</p><p class="p1">In her sleep, Catra mulled the concept over, tearing and pulling, until it had been squeezed dry. Usually she'd be left in peace for a few days before the nightmares started anew.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Catra. </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Screaming, shoving, spittle flying. After everything, a drunken stumble down the long driveway of the lavish house, popping the engine cover…</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Pivot. Turn back. </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Before that, people everywhere, chest to chest, but all Catra could see was a halo of blonde hair—sweaty, sticky with beer—f</em>
  <em>raming that icy blue glare. Bass thumping, but all Catra could hear were those fucking words, then a slap, acrylics she didn’t even want to wear cutting deep, then a fist, rocketing toward Catra's face - </em>
</p><p class="p1">"Yo, <em>Catra!"</em></p><p class="p1">Catra flew upright, slammed her head onto the corner of her desk, and groaned as she crumpled onto her floor futon—all before fully coming awake. The huge form of her roommate loomed close in her blurry sight, with only the white undercut coming into clear focus. Scorpia, who had been gently shaking Catra awake, recoiled in horror before hastily patting at the bruised girl with her sizable hands.</p><p class="p1">"Oh man, I'm so sorry! Are you okay? Please don't have a concussion."</p><p class="p1">Catra grunted as she clumsily tried to wave away her roommate's grabby hands, succeeding only in flopping her own hand in the air a little. “’m fine. Scorpia. Fuck off.”</p><p class="p1">Scorpia took the hint for once and folded her hands in her lap, clasped tightly to keep them from wandering again. "Okay, I promise I normally would, but… we have orientation in twenty minutes."</p><p class="p1">Catra's eyes flew fully open, riveted on Scorpia's squeamish expression as the other girl suddenly busied herself by gathering up the halo of beer cans surrounding Catra's futon. <em>Transfer orientation? Today? Ugh, SHIT. </em>She bolted upright again, only to—</p><p class="p1">---</p><p class="p1">From the kitchen, Entrapta heard a bang. However, she was focused on making the perfect tiny espresso, hoping that it would pair perfectly with her very small breakfast sandwich (though to be fair, it was merely an ordinary breakfast sandwich cut into several smaller pieces. Sometimes, sacrifices had to be made).</p><p class="p1">By the time she'd finished with the espresso machine, there was another bang, followed by a "<em>FUCK" </em>that rang throughout the house, accentuated by the open spaces in the cramped apartment where boxes still needed unpacking. She keenly noted that a few of the windowpanes rattled; there had been no less than 19 similar "<em>FUCK"</em> incidents in the few weeks that Entrapta had lived with the two transfer students, but the windowpanes had never rattled.</p><p class="p1">"Catra's awake," she said to no one in particular, taking a sip of the perfectly portioned espresso. She checked her watch—a bulky purple G-shock decked out with so many delightful buttons—and raised a brow. "And roughly one hour, forty-nine minutes earlier than her Friday average so far. Interesting."</p><p class="p1">---</p><p class="p1">Catra had never been great with getting her shit together on short notice. Well — in her mind, she always pulled through at the last second, and way better than anyone else could, but it was clear to her that other people didn't see it the same way. As if anyone had the right to an opinion about her in the first place.</p><p class="p1">As soon as she was able to shoo a very concerned, very apologetic Scorpia out of the room, Catra struggled to pull on some worn jeans, a red and black plaid shirt, and drag a brush through her fucked-up hair all at the same time without getting hangover-assisted motion sickness. A vivid memory floated just outside of conscious though, further stirring her gut.</p><p class="p1"><em>Freshman year of high school. First day having the JROTC class period. She walked into the uncomfortably bright classroom, scruffy, barely dressed. Of course she was the last one in despite sharing the same house with several of the people in the room; Lonnie, Rogelio, Kyle (sitting together, of course) and other kids she didn't know looked decently up to snuff. Combed, properly dressed for the first day of high school with </em>you know who. <em>Even Kyle had clearly made an attempt—he had some sort of gel in his hair and his shirt was buttoned to the neck, though a couple of lower buttons were mismatched. </em></p><p class="p1">
  <em>Catra smirked at that. A hand was waving for her attention from the corner of her eye, attached to a very freaked out, wide-eyed blonde—</em>
</p><p class="p1">Catra grunted and threw the hairbrush across the room, landing hard amongst some piles of clothes and unopened U-Haul boxes. She roughly zipped up her jeans, adjusted the plaid shirt from where it bunched up under her arms, and ground her fists into her eyes. She grit her teeth as a red-hot throb exploded from her brow ridge, a nice reminder of the two run-ins with the desk less than five minutes ago. As if to add a little spice, the makings of a killer hangover continued to roil low in her stomach.</p><p class="p1">She stumbled over to the desk in question and groped for her glasses, stabbing herself in the eye as she slid them on. “Will wonders ever fucking cease,” she muttered, turning to finally view her room in full focus. Beer cans and small liquor bottles littered the ratty carpet, along with piles of clothes—dirty, clean, and mystery—as well as several unopened boxes sporting a messily sharpied “Catra” on the side. Hindsight being 20/20 and all, she wished she had actually written categories on the damn things. It had taken her two days to find her toothbrush and even longer to find her bras (though she hadn’t bothered to wear one for years).</p><p class="p1">Catra ambled over to her mirror for a final visual check, lightly punting empty cans as she went. She warily eyed the premature gray streaks that had been growing in at her temples since she was only seventeen, a gentle (if insistent) reminder of her eventual demise. But hey — at least they made her look distinguished.</p><p class="p1">Finally, she grabbed a pair of high-top Vans off the floor and left her room.</p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1">Public transportation was shit no matter where you went, apparently. Catra played with this thought while holding on for dear life to a railing as the bus driver turned a corner while at least 15 miles over the speed limit. The bus reeked of pot and sweat, though on second thought she herself might have forgotten deodorant this morning. Again. Also, did she smoke last night? She had no idea.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Probably. Pot's practically falling from the sky around here. Kind of a bonus, though.</em>
</p><p class="p1">A light pat on her head brought her to the present, that present being eye level with the muscular chest of Scorpia. Her huge roommate leaned down to make eye contact and grinned. “Hey, Wildcat. You feelin’ better? Seemed like a rough awakening this morning, huh?”</p><p class="p1">Something in her eyes was reminiscent of concern. Catra didn’t like that. “Like I said. I’m fine. But…” Scorpia waited, still smiling, while Catra chewed through her next words like ground glass. “Thanks for waking me up, though. I appreciate it.”</p><p class="p1">The concern in her roommate’s eyes vanished under a delighted twinkle and Catra was relieved that she had avoided one of the many “feelings” talks that the other girl often tried to force on her. <em>Well. That’s not fair, I guess. </em>Scorpia had good intentions, but Catra being willing to discuss—well, anything—was a rare occurrence indeed. Besides, talking about shit only ever seemed to make Catra feel worse. Wasn’t that the opposite of what talking about feelings was supposed to do for people?</p><p class="p1">Another sharp turn of the bus slammed the two girls into the window, nearly popping Catra’s shoulder out of its socket. She swore, but the words caught in her throat as the bus crested a hill and brought the small town into full view, shimmering in shades of gold and red under the morning sun.</p><p class="p1">Long, sloping green hills lay dotted with small houses, peeling paint worn down by years of salty sea winds coming off the nearby coast. From a distance it looked like a shanty town from a book or something. Nearly every surface was touched by blue-green plants—grass, trees, moss—which came as a shock compared to her arid, abysmal hometown in Southern California.Down there, trees weren’t really a thing except for some dilapidated palms. Even bugs were few and far between. Guess they couldn't take living down there any better than Catra did.</p><p class="p1">Looking through the other bus window to her right, Catra could see a seemingly never-ending expanse of redwood forest dotting the horizon and covering the mountains as far as the eye could see.</p><p class="p1">“Beautiful, huh?” Scorpia said suddenly, shaking Catra from her reverie.</p><p class="p1">Something about the serene landscape took the usual venom out of her for a moment. “Yeah. It is,” she replied quietly. </p><p class="p1">---</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Catra.”</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Catra stood stock still in the doorway, unconsciously shriveling away from the voice behind her. The blonde stopped frantically waving and merely stared in horror. </em>
</p><p class="p1"><em>That oily voice was a constant presence in both their lives, but there was a difference: all Catra heard from Weaver about the blonde, about </em>Adora,<em> was praise. What Weaver said to (and about) Catra herself was an entirely different story.</em></p><p class="p1">
  <em>Catra swiveled and was met by the woman's scathing glare. She was decked out in a loose JROTC t-shirt and track pants that draped . Definitely an outfit that Catra would normally roast the shit out of, but… it was Weaver, after all.</em>
</p><p class="p1"><em>Weaver kept her eyes on Catra as she spoke loud enough for everyone else to hear. “We appear to have the full class, finally. But since one of you was late…” Catra mentally prepared for the inevitable, digging her nails into her palms. “… I think we should begin with an introduction to what exercise—and Esprit de Corps—</em>really<em> is.”</em></p><p class="p1">Catra took in the enormous UNIVERSITY OF ETHERIA sign as the bus climbed the final hill to the library bus stop. There it came to a sudden, screeching halt, throwing the passengers a few feet forward.</p><p class="p1">Catra joined Scorpia in navigating the throng of students exiting—probably all transfers like themselves, she reckoned, or students doing summer research. Aside from that, the campus was relatively empty, with only a few students sitting under the orange and red trees chatting or sunbathing in what pitiful light was left this late in the summer.</p><p class="p1">“September sure looks good on this place, huh?” Scorpia piped up as they walked toward the quad where the orientation crowd began to come together. “Look at the trees! Gosh, it looks just like those fancy east-coast schools. My moms used to tell me about it.”</p><p class="p1">Catra snorted. “Wait. Your moms went to an Ivy League or something?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah! Well. At least one of them, I think. I don’t really-”</p><p class="p1">“So how’d you end up in a dump like the community college down south?” Catra suddenly bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, drawing a little blood. Maybe it was the hangover taking away what few filters she had, or she was just an asshole. At the sight of Scorpia’s crestfallen expression, Catra decided on the latter.</p><p class="p1">Before she could clumsily attempt damage control, Scorpia answered, “Oh, well. Y’know, they both died when I was a kid. I had some family left on this coast, and… I guess I’m not as smart as my moms were. But hey, I liked the CC!”</p><p class="p1">“…really?”</p><p class="p1">“Sure! It’s where I met you, after all.” <em>And there she goes, beaming again,</em> Catra thought. <em>Ever the positive one. </em>“Besides, we’re here now. Me and you, Wildcat, getting a fresh start!”</p><p class="p1"><em>Yeah, </em>Catra thought as they split up to line up by last name, Scorpia heading towards the A-C line, Catra toward the W-Z. <em>Let’s hope so. </em></p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1">“Psst, Scorpia. Where’s Entrapta?” Catra muttered, out of breath. While their peppy guide walked ahead of them, pointing out buildings and providing a history of the University of Etheria campus at a rapid-fire pace, the rest of the group huffed and puffed from the strain of traversing the hilly topography. Currently, they were touring the outside of some science buildings. “Shouldn’t she have gotten here before us with that…" Catra sucked in a pained breath, her next words coming out in a whoosh. "...weird-electric-scooter-thingy?”</p><p class="p1">Scorpia shrugged. Her forehead sparkled with sweat. “I dunno. Honestly, she probably knows everything in the tour anyway. Bet she could give it better than him, even!” </p><p class="p1">Catra had fought against living with someone else, but one look at the rent prices (and an astute declaration of “Uh, we’re poor” by Scorpia) had convinced her. Even in the short time the two girls had known the random roommate they’d found on Craigslist, it was abundantly clear that Entrapta was <em>stupid</em> smart. Like, crazy smart. She spent most of her time fiddling with her computer (and theirs), the TV, her scooter, Scorpia’s car… and the devices usually came out of it better than they’d started.</p><p class="p1">Shrugging, Catra tried to tune back into the tour. Seeing as she was an organic chemistry major, she figured she should probably pay attention to this part of the tour, if nothing else. The tour guide—a senior or something, probably—labored on about sustainability, pointing out some weird hippie campus housing that Catra could care less about. Well, it was kind of cool, but those big picture concepts had never really been her thing. Too busy trying to claw her way toward the possibility of a future for herself that didn't fucking suck. </p><p class="p1">A dull ache behind her brow reminded her of the fight with the desk this morning, combined with a touch of hangover, no caffeine, and exertion. Luckily, the tour was almost over; she could stumble back home, chug a Red Bull, and go the fuck to sleep. Maybe she’d fit in some mac and cheese somewhere in there.</p><p class="p1">With an internal sigh, she reminded herself that holding to a schedule would soon be necessary. Classes started in three days; that meant less drinking (maybe) and less sleeping in (definitely). An 8am Monday class to start off the semester sure was some shit. At the very least she could rely on Scorpia and Entrapta to be an alarm clock, much as she voiced her displeasure when woken up by them in time for important crap. Such as transfer orientation.</p><p class="p1">Catra glanced up at her roommate, busily ogling the wild bits of nature that were carefully cultivated on campus. According to the guide, hundreds of acres of forest lay right behind the school grounds, there was a massive greenhouse and school-sponsored research stations throughout the county... lots of places that Scorpia would no doubt go nuts for. Catra suppressed a groan at the many “bestie hangout trips” that were sure to ensue, but she couldn’t deny that some small part of her was a little excited at the novelty of it all. Maybe it really would be a fresh start.</p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"><em>Catra was way too old to cry in front of Adora. Combine that shame with a latent competitive streak, and what you got was Catra running her ass off around the track in her street clothes, a punishment courtesy of Weaver. She earned some glares from the older students as she passed them and swelled a little with pride. If she could outpace even the more experienced and conditioned cadets, maybe Weaver would lay off a little. Maybe being forced into JROTC with the other foster kids would turn out okay. </em> <em>Maybe, maybe, maybe.</em></p><p class="p1">
  <em>Maybe not.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>But of course, few people could shape up when compared to Adora’s athleticism, Catra thought as the blonde caught up to her. For fuck’s sake, she was barely breaking a sweat even as her muscled legs pumped up and down like pistons. Catra prepared to put in a burst of speed, but a firm hand on her forearm stopped her.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Catra, wait!” Adora pleaded, not even breathing hard. “Catra!”</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“I don’t wanna talk,” Catra spat, yanking her arm away. She lost her balance, stumbled a little, and suddenly was face first in the dirt, Adora skidding to a stop at her side. Catra bitterly noted that Adora probably wouldn’t make a five minute mile now, much to Weaver’s displeasure. A few years ago, an embarrassment like this would have been enough to transform Catra into a weeping mess. Now, it just pissed her off.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>She stood, wobbling on burning legs, swatting away Adora’s attempts to help her up. Catra’s hand shot out and grabbed a handful of the other girl’s collar, yanking her down a couple of inches so they were eye to eye. She let loose with the harsh words that would start the fight. It wasn’t the first in their lives, but it would be the first of many that led to the end of things.</em>
</p><p class="p1">Catra bolted awake, forehead narrowly missing the corner of her desk. She scrubbed a hand over her face, wiping away some drool. <em>Fucking hell. </em>She really needed to move the futon to a less concussion-prone spot in the small room or she wouldn't make it through the semester without a hospital visit.</p><p class="p1">Bleary-eyed, she checked the time on her digital clock: 6:46pm. Four hours was a hell of a nap, but the combination of trudging around campus, a hangover, nearly being concussed twice, a hasty post-orientation meal of pure starch and cheese paired with a Red Bull (which she seriously considered shotgunning, but decided not to), made the nap seem worth it. She struggled to stand, double checked to make sure her clothes were still on properly, and staggered out of her room.</p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1">Scorpia was having a pleasant time sorting through one of several U-Haul boxes still left in the cramped living room. She hefted a large picture frame and viewed it appreciatively, like it was the centerpiece of a gallery exhibit.</p><p class="p1">Suddenly, after some mysterious thumping, Catra tumbled out of her bedroom, hair poofed up enough to give her several extra inches of height. Scorpia grinned and made a mental note to gently suggest that Catra finally buy an actual bed sometime soon; that beat-up futon of hers was probably gonna crumble to dust within a year.</p><p class="p1">“Hey! Look what I found.” Scorpia turned the frame towards her friend, who squinted. <em>Oop. She’s not wearing her glasses. </em>“It’s the picture of us from that fundraising thingy awhile back. And guess what?”</p><p class="p1">Catra shifted her squint from the framed photo towards the general direction of Scorpia’s face. “…wha-”</p><p class="p1">“I’m gonna hang it right here in the living room! What do you think?”</p><p class="p1">Her friend grimaced, rubbing her forehead aggressively. “Fine, whatever. Do we have Advil? I feel like I got hit by a fucking train.”</p><p class="p1">Scorpia pointed to the bathroom. “Sure. I put away most of the bathroom stuff-” Catra bolted into the bathroom and slammed the door, leaving Scorpia to quietly finish with, “-this morning.” She sighed, then perked up when her pocket buzzed.</p><p class="p1"><b>Kyle: </b> <em>hey!! me/lonnie/rogelio r thinkin of rushing a frat</em></p><p class="p1">Scorpia’s mouth popped open. She texted back, painstakingly tapping at the touchscreen. Thick fingers does not an efficient texter make and autocorrect was amongst her closest friends.</p><p class="p1">&gt;<em>Cool!! Which one?</em></p><p class="p1"><b> <em>Kyle: </em> </b> <em>idk the greek letters lol sorry but their rite next door 2 u guys ithink</em></p><p class="p1"><b> <em>Kyle: </em> </b> <em>their havin a party 2nite before class starts. 10pm. you should come!!! :D</em></p><p class="p1">
  <em>&gt; Can I bring Cara and enraptured?</em>
</p><p class="p1">Scorpia huffed. Autocorrect was <em>usually</em> amongst her closest friends.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>&gt; Catra* Entrapta* jeez, autocorrect</em>
</p><p class="p1">She waited a minute, then a minute longer, before putting her phone down and resuming her unpacking duties. The next time her phone buzzed, it was almost 7:30. She gently set down a bubble-wrapped flower vase (which she had never used, but always intended to) and checked her phone.</p><p class="p1"><b> <em>Kyle: </em> </b> <em>ok I think u can bring them</em></p><p class="p1"><b> <em>Kyle: </em> </b> <em>like if u rly want 2</em></p><p class="p1"><b> <em>Kyle: </em> </b> <em>rly rly want 2</em></p><p class="p1">Scorpia nearly squealed. Kyle had probably just been asking the frat for permission to bring randos. She knew he, Lonnie, and Rogelio had basically grown up with Catra along with some other kids in a foster home or something, but… that was a lot of history and context that she didn’t have. They might have all transferred to U of E from the same community college, but it wasn’t like they knew each other through and through. In fact, the trio had mostly hung out with Scorpia, or Scorpia and Catra together, but it seemed like they never spent time with Catra by herself…</p><p class="p1">Scorpia reminded herself that it was okay if she didn’t "get" things right off the bat sometimes; if she needed to know something, she’d end up knowing it eventually. Plus, any prodding into Catra’s personal life brought out the proverbial claws, so Scorpia did her best to let it lie.</p><p class="p1">Speaking of Catra, there were some concerning gurgles coming from the bathroom. The girl had been in there for nearly an hour, deadly silent—<em>probably fell asleep again, </em>Scorpia thought<em>—</em>but now it sounded like she was heaving something up. Or… choking!</p><p class="p1">Scorpia jumped up and banged on the door. “Hey! You okay in there?” Silence. “Catra?” Some muffled grumbling. “What?”</p><p class="p1">The toilet flushed and the door flew open. Catra, still disheveled, appeared in its wake. “I’m <em>fine, </em>I said. Please move.”</p><p class="p1">Scorpia assented, following her tiny friend to the cluttered kitchen. Pots, pans, and dry goods littered the counters though most of the cabinets and drawers were still empty. Technically the kitchen was Catra’s responsibility upon move-in, but... <em>She’ll get it done over the weekend, I’m sure, </em>was a thought that Scorpia repeated like a mantra these days. She watched Catra dig through the mess, muttering to herself, and thought of happier days.</p><p class="p1">It hadn’t always been like this. The beginning of community college was a good memory for Scorpia, because Catra had seemed much more bright—if a little manic.</p><p class="p1"><em>What would cheer her up?  </em>She wondered as Catra seemed to finally alight on a target amongst the mess. <em>Oh, duh. </em>“Wildcat? You wanna come to a party tonight?”</p><p class="p1">Catra turned, a room temp can of Dr. Pepper in hand. “A what?”</p><p class="p1">Scorpia smirked and folded her thick arms. “Don’t tell me you don’t know what a party is.”</p><p class="p1">Her friend chortled slightly at the rare display of sarcasm. “I mean… where, though?”</p><p class="p1">“Next door. The trio-” Catra’s face fell, but Scorpia blundered on, “-uh, they’re gonna rush and Kyle asked us to come. Whaddaya say?” Well, that wasn’t <em>quite </em>true, but a little white lie never hurt anyone. Scorpia clasped her hands together and put on her best “pleeeaasseee” face, mouth pouted, eyebrows raised to the heavens to give that baby effect. Catra pursed her lips.</p><p class="p1">“I dunno… I’m kinda tired, and <em>man </em>my head-”</p><p class="p1"><em>Oh, no you don’t. </em>“They’ve got free booze,” Scorpia said, trying for a conspiratorial tone. Internally, she cringed at exploiting her friend’s one obvious weakness via dangling something that may not even be provided. However, if frat movies were to be believed, there would be kegs and bottles aplenty. <em>It’ll be fine, though. I always keep an eye on her. It hasn’t been </em>that <em>bad in a long time.</em></p><p class="p1">The frown vanished, a sly grin in its place. “Aight, I’m in. Might as well go hard before classes start.” Catra’s eyebrow quirked up as she popped open the soda, looking thoughtful. “Also, where the fuck is Entrapta?”</p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1">When Entrapta arrived back at the apartment, her G-shock read 10:17pm. She locked up her scooter and waited for the watch to turn 10:18pm—a nice, even number—before opening the door and walking right into Scorpia’s torso, dressed in slightly nicer clothes than that morning.</p><p class="p1">“Oh jeez! Where have you been? I texted you like, ten times!” Scorpia blurted. She reached out as if to hug Entrapta, but didn’t.</p><p class="p1">“Exploring, of course.” Entrapta slid out of Scorpia’s arm space, strolled to the couch, and plopped down, pulling a zip-loc bag of small crackers from a crack in the cushion. She popped one in her mouth. “I decided to do a rough calculation of the town population density by eye. Then, I went to see some of the cliffs along the coast and time the tides. Then-”</p><p class="p1">“We get it, geek princess,” a raspy voice that could only belong to Catra cut in. She had changed into a worn pair of black high-waisted jeans and a dark blue button up. Entrapta noted that the top four buttons were undone, but she had learned from experience to not offer fashion advice — especially to Catra. Her occasional habit of wearing discordant color combinations or having clothing not fully “on” was apparently intentional, much to Entrapta’s confusion. “We’re going to a party next door. You in? Lots of shit to poke around in, people to watch.”</p><p class="p1">Entrapta stared expectantly. She popped another cracker into her mouth, crunching away in the silence.</p><p class="p1">“Uh, we could… probably find a tiny shot glass for you, or something,” Catra muttered, suddenly intent on roughly rolling up her sleeves to the elbow.</p><p class="p1">Entrapta squealed.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. fast as you can</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>this chapter is literally just meathead adorabow rights plus a heaping teaspoon of angst</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello hello! I split this chapter into two parts because it became massive against my will. guess the BFS love to talk more than i thought.</p><p>if you like it, leave a comment! if you didn't, also leave a comment so I can have something to weep to late at night!</p><p>come reach across the void and find me at samshepard.tumblr.com so you can watch me be gay and obsess over art and cartoons!</p><p>big shout out to Pengibee and Blue_Magic for helping me with concepts, editing, and being gay messes together. they have fics of their own if you're down for yet MORE SHE-RA CONTENT.</p><p>preworkout is gross, don't drink it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <em>BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.</em>
</p><p class="p1">Adora’s eyes cracked open, her pupils wearily sliding to the source of the offending noise: her alarm clock, reading <strong><em>4:15am</em></strong>.</p><p class="p1">Something stirred in the back of her mind as she reached over and hit snooze. Something… important?</p><p class="p1">Adora shot upright, nearly slamming headfirst into a shelf laden with framed photos. Somehow, two years of living in dorms and ramming her head into the ceiling above her loft bunk every morning (until Glimmer had convinced her to <em>just rent a townhouse with me oh my God</em>) hadn’t been enough to curb the habit of snapping to attention as soon as she came fully awake. Of course, Glimmer had convinced her to rent a three bedroom apartment so they could have an office space. Adora hadn’t protested that much despite internally losing her mind at the price. Between her scholarship money and odd jobs, she made it work, but sometimes—</p><p class="p4">
  <em> Wait, what was I thinking about? Oh, right. Crew practice!</em>
</p><p class="p1">She bolted out of bed—grabbing her phone as she sped to the bathroom to hurriedly brush her teeth—and tumbled her way out the door, barreling down the stairs to the first floor. After switching on her phone’s flashlight, a cursory glance at the living room told her that Glimmer had definitely stayed up way too late and neglected to clean up the evidence (namely: an ice cream container, an empty bag of chips, and a few bottles of hard cider scattered across their expansive couch). <em>Eh, no worries, </em>Adora thought, carefully making her way into the dark kitchen and digging through the fridge for a pre-workout-infused protein shake. <em>She always gets it as soon as she wakes up. Which is in, like… seven hours. Or Bow gets it when he comes over, which is like… all the time.</em></p><p class="p1">With a light chuckle, Adora pondered how funny it was that Glimmer and Bow called <em>her </em>oblivious all the time. Sure, forgetting to make the bus on time and having to sprint to campus, leaving a blender on for twenty minutes, or misremembering her own birthday was… pretty oblivious of her, but even Adora could see that Bow and Glimmer had a special something going on, at least since she met them junior year of high school. Glimmer absolutely sparkled (<em>ha</em>) whenever Bow was around. As for Bow, it seemed like the sun was shining straight from Glimmer’s face onto him personally.</p><p class="p4"><em>Wait, what? That doesn’t sound cute, that sounds... bad. Well you know what I mean, me, </em>Adora thought as she stifled a laugh. Words (especially words <em>about feelings</em>) weren’t always her strong suit. Either way, there was something there between her two closest friends; something cute, and very sweet. Something Adora had never come close to having with anyone, except maybe—</p><p class="p1">
  <em>bzzt.</em>
</p><p class="p1">The buzz of her phone on the marble countertop startled Adora. She grabbed it and checked the text, heart sinking through the floor.</p><p class="p1"><b> <em>Mermista: </em> </b> <em>yo, sleepy head. i’ve been outside ur house for like 10 minutes. u coming or not?</em></p><p class="p1">“Shit,” Adora muttered as she checked her watch (the one she always slept with because, uh, <em>preparedness</em>!) and cringed. “Double shit.”</p><p class="p1">She slammed back the rest of her protein shake and ran for the door. Trusty red jacket, check. Keys, check. Finally out the door—<em>shit, gym bag</em>. <em>Okay, good to go.</em></p><p class="p1">It was raining—a little early in the year for it—but the drizzle enhanced the golden haloes cast by the streetlights in the mist that rolled in off the coast. If she hadn’t been <em>very unacceptably </em>late to meeting her ride, Adora would have stopped to take it all in, marveling at the beauty she was allowed to witness.</p><p class="p1">Adora looked wildly up and down the street before spotting Mermista’s beat-up dark blue Civic and sprinting to it. Mermista was missing her trademark heavy makeup, and from the looks of her dark roots, she hadn’t dyed her hair blue in a while. She eyed Adora warily as the blonde clambered into the passenger seat, shoving her gym bag in the back.</p><p class="p1">“That pre-workout already kicking in, huh?” Mermista teased, starting the engine and pulling away from the curb.</p><p class="p1">“<em>Yup!</em>” Adora squealed. Pre-workout was like being hit by lightning. The first time she tried it, she had under-anticipated the sheer burst of energy and ended up running circles around the block for an hour. Years later, it still had the same effect. Her left leg was bouncing—she stopped it. Then the other leg started—she stopped it too. Then—</p><p class="p1">“So, how was your summer?” Mermista asked. Anyone who didn’t know her would assume her bland tone meant disinterest, but Adora knew that her teammate was simply as mellow as a human being could possibly be. <em>Better mellow and monotone than</em> <em>Mermista when she’s mad. </em>That sight was enough to turn your hair gray.</p><p class="p1">Adora squirmed a little, trying and failing to be comfortable under the seatbelt while her body screamed louder and louder for exertion. “Oh, it was—it was okay. I stayed in town most of the time, hung out with Bow and Glimmer before they left for break, worked out, the usual. How about y—”</p><p class="p1">Mermista let out a long, low groan. “It was honestly <em>so, so</em> boring. I went back to the Bay and my dad wouldn’t shut up about all the lame stuff he’s doing in retirement. Golf this, boating that. I mean, the boat he bought is actually kind of cool, but like… I didn’t wanna stoke his ego more. Or anything.”</p><p class="p1">Adora attempted a sage-like nod. Parental and familial relationships were still so alien to her, try as she might to osmotically absorb context from Bow and Glimmer. Just when she thought someone wholly loved their parents, they would be pissed at them the next day over a Facebook post or something. Glimmer in particular always seemed to be swinging through the range of possible emotions regarding her parents: her dad, Micah, was a big political something-or-other, gone more often than he was around, but he and Glimmer were clearly fond of each other (seeing as they were basically the same person, that was no surprise). As for Glimmer’s mom, the times Adora had personally witnessed them getting along with zero conflict could be counted on one hand, but there was obvious love between them. She vividly remembered how Glimmer had spiraled during the summer before senior year of high school, after Angella’s…<em>accident</em>.</p><p class="p1">She winced. Mermista’s summer stories faded to a hum as Adora wrestled with her thoughts. Junior year of high school was stormy, to say the least; transferring to Bright Moon High at the last minute, working her ass off to finish strong and qualify for scholarships, applying to college—no small list. Breaking away from Weaver had been agonizing but having a friend whose mom is a big-time lawyer on your side helped—Angella had made it abundantly clear that Adora was to stay with her for the rest of high school. Adora still wasn't really sure how she had swung that, aside from some well-placed threats over Weaver’s decades of mistreatment of her foster kids.</p><p class="p1">An old, familiar ache settled deep in her chest. It was pure luck that she’d met Bow and Glimmer during a rugby match and hit it off, despite being from rival schools. Pure chance that Glimmer and her mom fought their asses off to get Adora out of Weaver’s grasp and into Bright Moon High, giving her the best shot at sports scholarships for college. More than anything, it was just sheer coincidence that <em>only</em> Adora had found an early way out of Weaver’s grasp while the other kids were still trapped until they were eighteen. Sometimes she wondered if Angella might have taken in more of them if Adora had just <em>asked</em>, but…that was so much to ask of someone who was already going above and beyond for her. <em>Even asking to save just one person probably wouldn’t have worked out</em>, she told herself. Especially because the girl at the top of her list <em>definitely </em>wouldn’t have wanted to go—and even if she did, Catra and Glimmer were like fire and gasoline.</p><p class="p1">“Earth to Adora?” Mermista said, bewildered. “You in there? Thought you took that pre-workout to ‘<em>focus and</em> <em>exhilarate’</em>.”</p><p class="p1"><em>Damn, do I really say stuff like that? </em>Adora thought. She felt her face heat up a little.“Yeah, sorry. Guess I am bit tired this morning.” <em>And regretful.</em></p><p class="p1">“Anyways, I was asking how your erg test went.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, fine! Better time than last summer.”</p><p class="p1">Mermista spluttered. “You deadass? I felt like I couldn’t walk afterwards. Do you just, like, work out <em>all</em> day over breaks?”</p><p class="p1"><em>Thank God for Bow’s dedication to teaching me slang. </em>“One hundred percent deadass,” Adora replied, squirming again. Man, she really needed to get out of this seatbelt and run around in circles before the pre-workout gave her a heart attack. “And, kinda… yeah. But hey, all that matters is passing it, right?”</p><p class="p1">“Ugh, I guess,” Mermista scoffed. “I should probably lay off the ice cream over winter if I’m ever gonna beat <em>She-Ra’s </em>time.” Her sly grin belied that she was clearly ribbing and didn’t mean anything by that, but Adora felt embarrassed by the nickname—and the praise—nonetheless.</p><p class="p1"><em>Ah, yes, the high school nickname that I'll never live down, </em>Adora thought, shrinking lower in her seat. <em>Bow and Glimmer just couldn’t keep their mouths shut. They just have to tell everyone we met that I was soooo gooood in high school that I got a nickname. I don’t even know what it means! Or who started it!</em></p><p class="p1">They rode in semi-comfortable silence for a few minutes before pulling into a public parking lot with a wide open view of the bay. The sun wouldn’t rise for another hour or so. Pale rays of light of the moon glittered across the water’s surface in its place, giving the appearance of two night skies. One above, one below, two halves of a whole; however, only one of those whole-halves had an appointment with Adora for an asskicking this morning.</p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"><em>Nothing like two hours on the water to get you ready for the day, </em>Adora thought as she and Mermista waved their goodbyes to the team. After a summer of only erg workouts and lifting, it was refreshing to get back in boat and have the soggy skin torn from your hands before sunrise. Well, maybe not so much; it was good to see the girls, though. Huntara, their big, beefy slab of a coach, pushed them to the limit right off the bat. To boot, there were apparently some newbies interested in the team; Mermista had visibly brightened at the prospect of watching fresh meat learn the value of teamwork via grueling test practices before five A.M. <em>A sadist as always, </em>Adora thought, not entirely unaffectionate.</p><p class="p1">“Adora!” the aforementioned sadist called from her car window. “You want a ride or something? It’s a hell of a walk to your house, if that’s your plan.”</p><p class="p1">Adora shook her head, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Nah, I’m headed to the gym with Bow, so I’ll take the bus. Thanks for the offer though!”</p><p class="p1">Mermista shrugged and started her car—she was more a fan of evening gym sessions anyway. Adora walked out of the parking lot, watching her long shadow cast by the sunrise dance across the gravel and sand at her feet. This part of the county—where ocean met land—was some of the most beautiful stuff she could remember seeing, aside from the lush green covering the rest of the town. Freshman year of college was the first time she'd ever seen the ocean, much to the shock of Glimmer and Bow who took beach trips fairly often as kids. Inland Southern California was about as dry and dusty as it got, unless you had the wherewithal to take a day trip to the coast. Adora dedicated herself to seeing as much of the beach and forest as she could, whenever she could, with whomever she could. If that meant dragging Glimmer out of bed at the oh-so-unreasonable hour of 9am once a month, then so be it.</p><p class="p1">She arrived at the sheltered bus stop and plunked down on the rusty bench, half daydreaming, half dozing off as she waited. The buses were often less than reliable, but they usually came once every twenty or thirty minutes on most days. There was plenty of time to rest her aching muscles and think about nothing for a moment.</p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1">When Bow was antsy, he solved it very simply: Treadmill. Stairmaster. Run from thoughts. Wash, rinse, repeat. On really bad days, he bought a new crop-top.</p><p class="p1"><em>Adora should be here any minute. </em>He checked the time on his phone, stretched, and scoped the room. At 7:30am, the campus gym hadn’t filled up too much, especially since it was the last week of summer break. This was the best time of day if you preferred a distinct lack of both sweat-smell and fighting dudebros over the machines.</p><p class="p1"><em>Gotta love college athletes. </em>He pushed the stretch as far as possible, enjoying the recently acquired ability to reach his arms fully over his head without discomfort. <em>And speaking of which, here comes my favorite one.</em></p><p class="p1">“Hi, Adora!” he called, catching the eye of the sweaty blonde in the red jacket who had just tumbled through the front doors. She smiled brightly, stowed her gym bag in a cubby, and jogged over to him.</p><p class="p1">“How was practice?” Bow asked, now bouncing on his toes and shaking out his arms.</p><p class="p1">“Oh, awesome. Being back on the water is like nothing else, I swear,” she answered brightly. She stripped off her jacket, balled it up, and deftly tossed it into the cubby right alongside her bag.</p><p class="p1">“Sick shot,” Bow crowed, high fiveing her. He tilted his head in the direction of the treadmills, quirking an eyebrow. “Shall we?”</p><p class="p1">Adora smirked. “We shall, good sir. After you.” She gave a princely bow, clearly a second away from losing her balance. Bow chuckled and wondered (not for the first time) how someone so athletically skilled could be so clumsy.</p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1">Some time later, Bow was keeping a steady pace on the treadmill while Adora had completed a quick sprint, then wandered over to the weight rack.</p><p class="p1">“So, are the scars healing okay?” she asked, racking up a barbell for a bench press.</p><p class="p1">Bow grinned, waving his arms every which way as he ran. “You bet! Now I can flex for you guys in my full glory. Get ready for the gun show, bro.”</p><p class="p1">Adora snorted as she completed a press and re-racked the barbell. “‘<em>You guys</em>’ meaning me and <em>Glimmer</em>, huh?”</p><p class="p1">The eyebrow wiggle was so clearly implied in her voice that Bow lost his rhythm and would have flown off the treadmill if not for a timely, well-placed death grip on the rail. He hung on for dear life, spluttering expletives. <em>Of course she’d bring up the one thing I’m trying to not think about right now.</em></p><p class="p1">“Oops, uh. My bad,” Adora stammered, blushing. She hurriedly prostrated herself for another bench press. “Sorry, Bow.”</p><p class="p1">Bow carefully shut off the treadmill and walked stiffly to a stairmaster, immediately cranking it to the highest speed he could tolerate. “Psht, no worries.” He choked out an awkward laugh. “So, anyways…”</p><p class="p1">“Yes! Anyways!” Adora grunted, far too enthusiastically. Their cheeks were burning more by the moment, and Bow couldn't be sure if it was more exertion or embarrassment. “Fun plans for the night? Last Friday of the summer and all that.”</p><p class="p1"><em>Whew. Thank God for easily flustered Adora. </em>“Not really. Me, Seahawk, and the other guys weren’t gonna do anything this time after what happened last year.”</p><p class="p1">“Uh, the fire?”</p><p class="p1">“<em>Yes, the fire,</em>” Bow muttered. It was funny now, but at the time, Seahawk—who refused to go by anything besides his dumbass frat nickname—setting fire to the frat’s old signage and banners in a dumpster (way too close to the house) was anything but humorous. Plus, he’d cackled like a madman the whole time, twirling that damn mustache that no one could convince him to shave. His excuse was for the grody facial hair was some long-running, high stakes bet with a girl on the crew team. <em>Three guesses as to which one.</em></p><p class="p1">Adora re-racked the barbell with a clang and sat up, breathing hard. “Hey, what do you say we quit a little early and get a smoothie or something?”</p><p class="p1">“Sure, sounds fun,” Bow replied, shutting off the stairmaster and dismounting. He gave his friend a once over and frowned. “Kinda out of character for you to blow off gym, though. Everything cool?”</p><p class="p1">“Yep!” Adora chirped, voice cracking ever so slightly. Bow took that as a sure sign that she was <em>not </em>fine but decided to save that conversation for a later date. Adora only talked <em>if</em> and when she was ready; that much hadn’t changed in the three years he’d known her. The girl was an open book about literally whatever the hell until you hit a nerve you didn’t even know existed. Getting details after that was like pulling teeth.</p><p class="p1">As Adora grabbed her gym bag and jacket from the cubby and headed for the doors, Bow stopped short. “Uh, you’re not gonna shower?”</p><p class="p1">She shrugged. “We’re gonna get sweaty walking all the way to the smoothie place, so I’ll just do it when I’m home.” <em>Hmm. Something is definitely off. </em>It was unusual for Adora to stray from her routine; Bow’s suspicion increased by several degrees.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, I guess so…” he muttered, declining to mention that <em>he</em> would maybe have liked a shower. The pair pushed through the doors and into the morning air that was cool enough to be refreshing but not cold enough to sting. A crowd was gathered in the quad, probably for an orientation of some kind. Transfer students, maybe.</p><p class="p1">As they walked together towards the edge of the otherwise near-empty campus in silence, Bow gave a nostalgic look to a particularly crappy dorm building that loomed over one of the parking lots. Most freshmen had moved in by now, but many were milling around with small grocery bags, boxes, and trinkets. His chest filled with warmth at the memory of him, Glimmer, and Adora moving into a triple together. With college half over already, freshman year seemed like ages ago.</p><p class="p1">Bow turned to Adora, her walk stiff, almost like she was… <em>marching</em>? Her brow creased and uncreased, corners of the mouth turned down and twitching; clearly, her mind was somewhere else. He bumped her shoulder with his own, startling her, and pointed at the dilapidated dorm he'd just been taking in.</p><p class="p1">“Remember when we moved in? Glimmer had so much crap that we could barely fit in the room with it. Like, who owns eight suitcases in the first place?”</p><p class="p1">Adora chortled, her expression transforming from worried to bemused. “Oh man, yeah. And the little sitting area thing—”</p><p class="p1">“The gazebo?” Bow supplied with a smirk.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, the thingy. Always full of smokers and rowdy night people.”</p><p class="p1">Bow gave her a sly look. “I remember more than once when <em>we </em>were the rowdy night people, bro.”</p><p class="p1">Adora rolled her eyes. “Ha, you and Glimmer, maybe. I was so afraid of getting caught by the cops that I didn’t even want to hold an open beer in my hand. Or a closed one." She paused. "Or even a soda, sometimes.”</p><p class="p1">Bow laughed; he’d forgotten about that. For most of freshman year Adora would quickly scan her surroundings, take a lightning fast pull from the bottle, and stow it, like… five feet away, only to do it all over again a minute later. Some deep part of Adora was so focused on rules and consequences that it took her forever to loosen up and live even a little. Though now that he thought of it, she was still pretty straightedge by most people’s standards—followed by him—and somewhere way down at the other end of the spectrum was party-hard Glimmer.</p><p class="p1">And speaking of Glimmer… “Hey, I’ma invite Glimmer to the smoothie place. Cool?”</p><p class="p1">Adora looked at him incredulously. “What time is it, nine or something? She probably won’t be awake for like, three more hours.”</p><p class="p1">Though that was definitely true, Bow just smiled and pulled out his phone to shoot off a text anyway. <em>Smoothie place, like 30 mins. Think adora needs us rn but idk whats wrong. Come thru for ya girl.</em></p><p class="p1">Ooh, that reminded him of a <em>quality </em>memory. He tried and failed to smother a grin.</p><p class="p1">“Wait, wait. Remember the girl in 4C? Like, around the corner from our room?”</p><p class="p1">“Uh, the girl with the hair? And the shoes?” Adora asked.</p><p class="p1">A sentence like that would have befuddled Bow when they first met; by now, <em>he</em> knew that <em>she </em>knew what he was talking about even if her verbal confirmation was…lacking. “Yes, the girl with the hair and the shoes. Dude, she had the <em>biggest </em>crush on you, did you know that?”</p><p class="p1">“What? No fucking way,” Adora spluttered. She glanced frantically back at the dorm that was now receding into the distance as if to retroactively catch sight of the girl in 4C. “You’re lying.”</p><p class="p1">“No cap, dude,” Bow replied, holding up his hands innocently. “She straight up told Glimmer—”</p><p class="p1">“—who, of course, told you—”</p><p class="p1">“—who then told me, yes, that she had the hots for you. Like, bad.”</p><p class="p1">“But… why didn’t you guys ever say anything?” Adora demanded. She anxiously switched her gym bag from her hand to her shoulder and back again. “I feel like an idiot.”</p><p class="p1">Bow shook his head. “Dude, back then, I don’t think you would have like… <em>gotten </em>it, you know? You were so busy with crew and classes. You never even looked twice at her, so we didn’t think there was a point in pushing it. And you weren’t exactly, uh…”</p><p class="p1">“Hip to the whole lesbian thing, yeah, I know.” Adora kicked at a sizable stone in their path, sending it clattering off into the bushes. “Man, I really was stupid, huh?” she continued softly, looking glumly at Bow.</p><p class="p1">He groaned internally, realizing that what he'd meant to bring up as a "ha-ha" moment clearly was having the opposite effect on his friend. What little Bow had gleaned about Adora’s strict, uncompromising childhood over the years had put her general obliviousness into perspective. No, she wasn’t stupid; she was <em>repressed. </em>But that was a bit heavy of a topic for now, so Bow went for a different route.</p><p class="p1">Bow pulled her to a stop with a hand on her shoulder, craning his head down so they were eye to eye. “Not even a little. Some people don’t figure it out ‘til they’re old and gross. You may be gross, but at least you ain’t old.”</p><p class="p1">She gaped at him furiously. “<em>Gross? </em>Sir, I demand that you take that back.”</p><p class="p1">“Madam, I shall take it back if and <em>only</em> if you race me across the overpass,” he taunted in sing-song, before adding, “sweaty ass.”</p><p class="p1">Her face was the picture of righteous rage. “Oh, you’re <em>fucking on, </em>uh… <em>bitch.</em>”</p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1"><em>Okay, three workouts in one day is maybe, kind of, a lot, </em>Adora thought, panting and waving off Bow’s attempts to carry her gym bag for her (while clearly restraining a laugh). She won their race, but only by throwing the bag ahead of her at the last second so she could put in a final burst of speed, pounding the graffitied pavement to dust. Bow hadn’t taken it so seriously, coming in behind her at a light jog. Bastard barely even broke a sweat.</p><p class="p1">The overpass that served as a walkway from campus to town held a lot of memories; some that warmed, and some that chilled. Adora, Glimmer, and Bow had spent many nights gazing through the chainlink fence at the cars passing by underneath, making up stories about where they were coming from or going. Glimmer had also taken it upon herself to document the various tags on the overpass before they were painted over by the city. One particularly stressful night during midterms season of freshmen year, Glimmer had successfully schemed them into spraying a tag of their own.</p><p class="p1">Adora could picture it perfectly.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>The October night air was chilly, carrying a cool breeze scented with gasoline from the few cars passing underneath and wood smoke from the chimneys of nearby houses. Glimmer clutched a small can of pink spray paint in her hand as she searched the barely visible ground for the perfect spot and hurriedly waved Bow and Adora over to watch.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Uh, are we sure about this?” Adora asked, wringing her hands. “It sounded fun and all, but we could get in trouble.” Bow nodded frantically.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Shush,” Glimmer said, waving her hand dismissively. “Now watch the magic.”</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Uncapping the spray paint and giving it a good shake, Glimmer crouched down and sprayed the most flowery, elegant, perfectly cursive graffiti that had probably every graced the pavement. Once finished, she stepped back and proudly gestured to it. Adora squinted to see it better and smirked in recognition.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>BEST FRIENDS SQUAD in bright, glittering pink. Very in-character for her.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Bow cleared his throat. “Okay, thanks, Glimm, love it, can we go now?” he squeaked, eyes darting around the night.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“What, are you cold or something?” Glimmer teased, capping the can.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Yes, exactly, I miss our warm dorm and now I’m walking back to it, yes I am.”</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>As the trio strode away from the scene of their misdemeanor, Bow and Glimmer bickered over the merits of living by “be gay, do crimes” as a motto while Adora couldn’t shake the feeling of a knife slowly twisting its way into her heart. </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Catra. </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>She and Catra used to do stuff like that. Marking their initials into tiny, hidden places in the foster home; beneath desks, on their bedframes, drawing the letters on each other’s skin when they thought no one was watching. Whispering at night when the other kids were asleep, making promises that they couldn’t keep, wouldn’t keep.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>She just couldn’t stay.</em>
</p><p class="p1"><em>Promises, promises, promises</em>. Adora had only ever broken one, but the enormity of her regret was enough to drown out all her other accomplishments since. <em>Have a good day on the water? Win a race or something?</em> A venomous voice so much like Catra’s would swirl in her head, telling her it didn’t matter because of what she had done. <em>Get a good grade on an exam</em>? A fellow student’s disappointed frown would rocket her back to childhood, trying and failing to comfort Catra, stroking her hand, gently rubbing out the bruises…</p><p class="p1"><em>Sleep-deprived from studying and finally hitting the sack at 3am</em>? Well, that’s when the darkness of her room would seem to manifest into the form of a familiar small, lean body, walking toward her with soundless steps, reaching a hand to her face—</p><p class="p1">
  <em>No. I’m not doing this to myself. Not anymore. </em>
</p><p class="p1">Weaver was out of her life for good. Catra had been…collateral. Extremely regrettable, saddening, maddening, <em>infuriating</em> collateral. Collateral that haunted Adora incessantly for the last three years. Collateral that almost threw hands with her the few times they ran into each other back home. Before, the two of them had been fuel for each other, adding small logs to the other’s hearth in the face of Weaver’s cold world. Now, they were water and oil, fire and ice, calm sky and boiling sea.</p><p class="p1">Bow was definitely saying words of some kind or another, but Adora could barely hear him over the oceanic roar of her thoughts. She had tried, tried, <em>tried</em> to mend things with her oldest, closest friend, so many times in so many ways. Texts went unanswered, numbers were blocked, placating words were met with accusations that devolved into shouting from both sides. It was useless, had always been useless, and her attempts at repairing the rift eventually trickled to a stop.</p><p class="p1">Adora told herself once again that Catra and the other foster kids had been collateral. Catra, who held her hand the few times she allowed herself to cry as a kid. Catra, whose mismatched eyes glinted with mischief as they swapped notes in class in middle school.</p><p class="p1">Catra, who Adora had last seen from a distance at a mall back home before quickly fading out of sight, something like a year and a half ago. Catra, wearing glasses (that was new), walking more upright (very new, because slouching had been her go-to for years), and…hanging out with a very tall, very muscular female friend (disturbingly, maddeningly, worryingly new, though Adora couldn't figure out why it bothered her so much).</p><p class="p1">A tap on her forehead by a bemused Bow tore Adora back to the present. She noted that they were in front of the smoothie shop, a misshapen building (definitely repurposed from an old lumber mill or something) giving off a metallic glint in the morning sunlight. The knowledge that she had walked for fifteen or more minutes without taking in her surroundings was…not at <em>all</em> disorienting, or anything.</p><p class="p1">“Adora?” Bow murmured, narrowing his eyes. “You good?”</p><p class="p1">Adora’s answer was cut short by the full weight of a squealing Glimmer landing on her back, nearly taking them both to the ground. Chuckling, Adora shrugged the girl off to pull her into a proper hug, noting with zero surprise that her friend was still in sparkly pink and purple pajamas, her fuchsia hair sticking up every which way.</p><p class="p1">“Glimm, didn’t expect to see you here at this fine hour of…” She checked her watch. “9:32am. Bow must have really pulled some strings huh?”</p><p class="p1">There was a quick glance between her two friends, so quick that Adora was tempted to shrug it off as a trick of the light, but…her heart sank. Was she really that obviously off her game today?</p><p class="p1">“You know how charming he is,” Glimmer chirped. She wrapped Bow into a chokehold (an impressive feat, given their sizable height difference) and aggressively pinched his cheek as he squawked. “This guy knows all my sweet spots. Besides, who can say no to a smoothie on our last weekday of summer freedom?”</p><p class="p1">With a grunt (and a fair bit of blushing, Adora noted) Bow slipped from Glimmer’s vice grip and pushed open the doors, the cackling girls in tow. Like most stores in town, the metal walls were littered with paintings depicting the redwoods and local beaches. The tables—mostly empty—were polished wood that contrasted with the stark metal interior. Adora had no idea what that kind of decor was called, but she always thought the mix of spartan simplicity and natural elements was cool.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, welcome in, what can I—<em>Adora?</em>”</p><p class="p1">Adora’s head snapped to the familiar voice coming from behind the counter, its owner the perfect picture of open-mouthed shock. “Wha…<em>Lonnie?</em>”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>what did you think? did i use the word 'bro' enough or too little? leave me a comment, kudos, or find me on tumblr: samshepard.tumblr.com.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. buy it in bulk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Glimmer and Bow exchange words; Adora is an idiot, but they love her.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>and here is chapter 3, that i had to split off from chapter 2 because it was enormous. if you like it, leave a comment and let me know! or if you don't, also let me know!!</p><p>find me at samshepard.tumblr.com for an endless stream of she-ra reblogs!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">While being dragged out of bed before 11am was literally the worst thing that could happen to Glimmer, tackling Adora and physically harassing Bow was an otherwise fine way to start the day. Plus, she’d no doubt get a free smoothie out of it (courtesy of Bow for his villainous decision to wake her, though she <em>was</em> concerned for Adora).</p><p class="p1">Teasing the boy was her greatest strength and favorite hobby, evidenced by the constant ribbing, shit-talking, and tickling between them since elementary school. In that time, Glimmer had found and nurtured an innate desire to rebel against the mold her parents set for her. If switching from Business to Journalism with an Asian American studies minor right before junior year wasn’t rebelling, then what was?</p><p class="p1">Okay, fine. She still lived on their dollar for the most part, but that was just being good with money, right?. It’s not like she <em>asked</em> them for support; they just gave it to her each month without a word. Glimmer had used this advantage to excel academically (when she didn’t sleep through morning classes and take a hit on attendance points), network, and party—just a little.</p><p class="p1">Her two closest friends had been a rock through all this, offering guidance and fun times when everything became too much. Especially soft, stable, crop-top loving Bow. Bow, gentle but strong; an unyielding, sturdy shield against the force of life’s troubles. Bow, who was staring pointedly at events unfolding at the counter that Glimmer realized she was decidedly tuned out of before dragging herself back to the present.</p><p class="p1">Adora was talking excitedly with a dark-skinned girl who sported locs tucked under a baseball cap. She seemed super, super familiar… maybe someone from high school?</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Oh, shit. She was at that fucking party.</em>
</p><p class="p1">Recognition hit Glimmer like a train, a host of vivid memories from junior year of high school hammering in her skull. Fire raged through her veins.</p><p class="p1">“Bow, is that…?” she whispered, the words grinding out like glass.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah,” he murmured. “It is.”</p><p class="p1">“What the<em> hell </em>is she doing here?”</p><p class="p1">“Guys! Come here,” Adora called, waving them over. They stiffly approached the counter, waving awkwardly at the girl behind it, who somehow managed to wave back even more awkwardly. “Remember Lonnie?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, we met at <em>the party</em>,” Glimmer muttered, teeth clenched. Bow elbowed her sharply, a tight smile welded to his face. Glimmer sighed; the wound was old, but not <em>that </em>old. Still, she’d try to keep up a modicum of politeness for Adora’s sake. “I mean, uh, you two grew up together, right?”</p><p class="p1">“Sure did,” Lonnie replied. A look flickered behind her eyes, and Glimmer immediately suspected that they were on the same trip down memory lane. “Since we were babies, basically. Foster care, JROTC, high school, all that stuff. Until Adora bailed on us, that is.”</p><p class="p1">Adora’s cheerful grin shattered as she sucked in a shaky breath, blinking hard. “Lonnie, I’m…”</p><p class="p1">The other girl smiled softly, dismissing Adora’s words with the wave of a hand. “Honestly, it’s okay. That was a long time ago, and I mean hey—good on you for being lucky. Me, Kyle, Rogelio… we don’t hold it against you, bro.” She leaned over the counter and gently punched Adora in the shoulder. Something about the familiarity of the gesture set Glimmer’s teeth grinding. <em>After what they did, what the </em>other<em> one</em> <em>did? After that fucking party? What, they’re just… friends again?</em></p><p class="p1">“Oh, th—that’s great,” Adora stammered, a hint of hope creeping into her voice. Glimmer was suddenly distracted by Bow who had his phone out, audibly tapping it against his abs. <em>That</em> was a familiar gesture from their extensive nonverbal lexicon. Without a word, she slipped her own phone—rose gold, of course—from her pajama pants and unlocked it.</p><p class="p1"><b> <em>Bow &lt;3: </em> </b> <em>bruh</em></p><p class="p1">Glimmer surreptitiously texted back, turning her torso slightly to keep the phone out of Adora and Lonnie’s view as the two kept talking.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>&gt; ik, wtf? what is going on today?</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <b> <em>Bow &lt;3: </em></b>
  <em>Idk</em>
  <em> but she was acting weird all morning. She quit gym early</em>
</p><p class="p1">Glimmer nearly gasped. Adora? Slacking on gym? That was unheard of.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>&gt; well she clearly didn’t know her childhood friends were in town SOMEHOW so it isn’t that</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>&gt; also btw how are they here? like im shook</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <b>
    <em>Bow &lt;3: </em>
  </b>
  <em>O</em>
  <em>h lonnie said something about them transferring from community college. I think me and adora walked by their orientation this morning actually</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>&gt; ok but what are the chances tho </em>
</p><p class="p1"><b>Bow &lt;3</b>: <em>Astronomical to say the least. 1 sec</em></p><p class="p1">Bow slid his phone into his pocket and loudly cleared his throat. “Hey, Adora, we’ll get a table. Get the usual and I’ll Venmo you?” Adora waved a hand at him as a vague gesture of "sure" without turning away from Lonnie. </p><p class="p1">Bow grabbed Glimmer by the hand and dragged her to the farthest possible table from the counter where they both sat with a huff. She kept her voice low and leaned in. “Bow, I mean this in the best possible way, but: what the fuck?”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know!” he whispered. “I wanted you to come because she was being kinda weird at the gym and on the way here, so I thought something was up. Then, this?”</p><p class="p1">“This is all because you woke me up early,” she replied sarcastically, folding her arms.</p><p class="p1">“First of all, it was for a good cause. Second of all, focus: if they’re here, do you think… <em>she’s </em>here too?”</p><p class="p1">There was only ever one <em>she</em> that was spoken of in that tone or context. Glimmer ground her teeth, fingers digging painfully into her biceps. It seemed like a stretch to have so much bad luck at once, but the idea wormed its way deep into her psyche. Those kids Adora grew up with were pretty close—or they used to be, at least.</p><p class="p1">“<em>If </em>she's here then I hope for <em>her </em>sake we don’t run into each other at the fucking farmer’s market, or something.”</p><p class="p1">Bow sighed, aggressively rubbing his temples. “Glimm, come on. That was—”</p><p class="p1">“Totally fucked up? The worst days, weeks, months of my life?”</p><p class="p1">“I was going to say <em>a long time ago</em>,” Bow continued, raising his voice a fraction. That was a rarity, but his tone only angered Glimmer more. “Besides, we have to think about Adora—”</p><p class="p1">“<em>Excuse me?</em>” Glimmer nearly screeched, leaning in an inch away from Bow’s face. “<em>Adora </em>doesn’t even believe that <em>she—”</em></p><p class="p1"><em>“</em>Hey guys, what’s—oh, are you guys fighting? I’ll just wait outside,” Adora stammered, holding three identical pink smoothies precariously in hand. “Uh, with the smoothies.”</p><p class="p1">Bow stood, sharply gesturing with his head for Glimmer to do the same. They waved to Lonnie (though Adora could only wiggle her elbow in a vague approximation of a wave) and followed the blonde outside, setting off toward Adora and Glimmer’s townhouse.</p><p class="p1">Glimmer glared at Bow, who returned the look with something that came close to grief. <em>Soft, tender Bow. Bow, the peacemaker at the worst possible moments. Bow, who won’t let me just </em>be angry—</p><p class="p1">And of course, Adora (ever the beautiful, blonde, idiot) immediately tried to talk about anything besides the feud she had just walked into. “So, Lonnie invited us to a party tonight!”</p><p class="p1">“Uh, what?” Bow and Glimmer asked at the same time in the exact same incredulous tone. <em>I guess even when we’re pissed we’re still on the same wavelength. Ugh. </em></p><p class="p1">“It’s a frat that she’s rushing with Kyle and Rogelio. Sigma…kappa… no, wait, that’s not right. Whatever, it’s a frat. Just a few blocks from where we live, Glimmer.” She turned and winked. Glimmer smirked despite her sour mood, knowing that Adora was more comfortable at parties where she could hop a fence and run back home at the faintest hint of a siren. Glimmer reminded herself to plan something truly crazy for the girl's twenty-first birthday.</p><p class="p1">“Pause,” Bow said, holding his hands up. “Zeta Kappa Sigma?” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Also, can I have my smoothie now?”</p><p class="p1">“Oops, sorry.” Adora clumsily handed them their drinks, nearly letting hers slip in the process. “Yeah, Mr. Frat Guy. You know them?”</p><p class="p1">“Sure…” Bow took a long pull of his drink, mumbling something. Glimmer kicked him in the shin, a key part of their nonverbal language. “Okay, fine. I’ve just heard they’re not so great, that’s all. Really… rowdy."</p><p class="p1">“Well if Lonnie and them are rushing, I’m sure it’s fine. They’re smart,” Adora replied. “Plus, a party would be great! We’re about to be stacked with classes, and—”</p><p class="p1">Adora’s habit of word vomiting had a clear benefit; Glimmer dragged Bow a few feet behind the rambling blonde and walked on tiptoes to whisper in his ear.</p><p class="p1">“Bow, come on.”</p><p class="p1">“Glimm, <em>no. </em>These guys aren’t good news.”</p><p class="p1">“Bow. Look how much she wants to go. We have to <em>‘think about Adora,’ </em>remember?” Bow flinched like he’d been slapped. “We can watch her. It’ll be fine.” <em>Plus, I want to go because </em>you <em>don’t want to go. So there. </em></p><p class="p1">Before Bow could object, Glimmer called out to Adora (still rambling, the meathead). “Sounds great! We’re in.”</p><p class="p1">Adora turned mid-stride, surprised that they were no longer right behind her. She blew out a breath, grinning shyly. “Good, because I already told Lonnie ‘yes.’” </p><p class="p1">The dumbass pointed finger guns at them, nearly tripping backwards over a curb and narrowly avoiding losing her drink. Again. As Bow dragged a free hand over his face and groaned, Glimmer wondered how she had ever had a tiny crush on the guileless blonde idiot before her, like, a billion years ago.</p><p class="p1">Though when Adora turned back to walk with her eyes on the sidewalk (as she should if she wanted to not break her goddamn neck) the ripple of back and thigh muscle under her workout clothes reminded Glimmer of what drew her to the girl when they first met.</p><p class="p1"><em>Junior year, long before </em>that party,<em> Bow had dragged her to rugby game between Brightmoon High and some rival campus that she couldn’t be bothered to care about. October was hot as shit that year, and all they could do to keep cool was sneaking off to the water fountains near the locker rooms (supposedly reserved for the athletes). Because who the hell wants to keep buying $4 bottles of water?</em></p><p class="p1">
  <em>However, upon running into a very imposing, very in-the-middle-of-changing group of rugby players, Bow and Glimmer realized they had seriously mistimed things. Luckily, one of the players—blonde, shredded, wearing nothing but a sports bra and compression shorts—herded them out of the room before an asskicking could commence, stammering some lame excuse about Bow and Glimmer being reporters for Brightmoon High’s news journal. Once safely away, the three of them somehow fell into comfortable small talk about school, sports—well, Bow handled most of that—and college. </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Adora (a nice name, but a bit on the nose given how naturally, unconsciously charming she was, Glimmer had thought) was kind, goofy, and the definition of an open book. Her eyes sparkled when she talked, calloused hands gesturing freely as she described her millions of other extracurriculars. She shriveled when talking about college—clearly, she didn’t believe she had a shot at whatever schools she was interested in. She was really into the idea of trying a water sport in college, like rowing, but her high school didn’t have that (though few schools did in the middle of the desert). Something about her was so endearing, but so… sad. Fragile, almost, if you were looking at her in the right light. </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Eye candy and intriguing mysteries aside, Glimmer was just anxious to go somewhere air-conditioned. Luckily, Bow (in a very Bow moment) gave Adora his number and earnestly asked her to text him, which she did barely five minutes after parting ways with them. </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>The rest of the school year passed in a daze as usual, but now Bow and Glimmer had an occasional third member for their coffee runs and movie nights. Shockingly, Glimmer’s mother warmed up to the new addition immediately, and Adora quickly became an accepted part of the household. Casual conversations about college and the future soon became real plans to have Adora transfer for senior year to Brightmoon High, clinch a sports scholarship, and follow Glimmer and Bow to college (naturally). It all grew more serious when Glimmer let slip to her mother one day just how badly Adora had been treated by Weaver and what she was still going through at the other high school under Weaver’s direct tutelage. For crying out loud, the crazy bitch expected all her foster kids to enroll in JROTC and join the military right when they turned 18. Who does that? </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Adora seemed enthusiastic and endlessly thankful about it all, but something was eating at her. She often zoned out at random or left Glimmer’s house suddenly without really explaining why. It was almost like she felt guilty, but for what, Glimmer wouldn’t find out until much later. </em>
</p><p class="p1">Bow’s rough grip on Glimmer’s shoulder stopped her short of walking right into a car making a right turn. She felt his eyes burning holes in her skull, but ignored it. He could serve to stew for just a bit.</p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1">Once back at their apartment, Adora was relieved to see Bow and Glimmer relax a little. She hadn’t caught much of their fight at the smoothie shop (probably because she was riding the shock of running into Lonnie), but one word had sounded clear as a bell: <em>Adora</em>. And to put it simply, that was fucking uncomfortable.</p><p class="p1">So, what to do when something really uncomfortable happens that should probably be addressed through thoughtful conversation? Ignore it and watch movies instead.</p><p class="p1">By the end of the first pick (<em>Booksmart—</em>a modern classic, if you asked Adora) Bow and Glimmer were willingly making eye contact again. By the end of the second (<em>Bridesmaids—</em>a quintessential Glimmer movie that she forced them to watch at least five times a year) they were all throwing popcorn at each other like nothing had happened.</p><p class="p1">Of course, there was a party to prep for, so Bow left to grab some clothes and pick up drinks worthy of a rager. He was the only member of the Best Friends Squad who was of age which was both an honor and a burden with party-hard Glimmer as a friend. Adora had once pulled him aside and simply said, “Whatever you get, buy it in bulk.”</p><p class="p1">Being Bow, he did more than his fair share of tidying the mess before he left for the liquor store (as well as tidying Glimmer’s leftover mess from whatever the hell she was up to the night before). With nothing to do besides shower—done in five minutes, as usual—Adora was left sitting on her bed, twiddling her thumbs until it was time to leave for the party.</p><p class="p1">She glanced at the clothes she'd picked out, laid carefully on the bed: a burgundy button-down shirt, boyfriend jeans, and her favorite ankle-high leather boots—already polished three times. Her go-to party outfit. <em>Okay, what else can I get done before Bow comes back? I showered, ate, cleaned my shoes, cleaned the kitchen, gave Glimmer a thumbs-up on her outfit because she’s not really asking for my opinion anyway, um… </em>She glanced around at the sparsely furnished room, zoning in on a pair of socks innocently out of place on the floor.</p><p class="p1">Ten minutes later, not a sock was out of place nor a surface left undusted. As a final touch, Adora scribbled <em>Be Happy! :) </em>on a sticky note that she placed carefully on the cork board above her desk. As she admired her handiwork, the front door opened and closed, Glimmer and Bow’s voices carrying up the stairs to her room. She quickly pulled on her outfit and went down to meet them.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, are we ready—uh, is that wine?”</p><p class="p1">“Yes it is.” Bow hefted the biggest glass jug Adora had ever seen, swirling with dark red wine. He had changed into a loose tee (cut into a crop top) and jeans. Glimmer, dressed in a very matchy-matchy purple and pink tank top/skirt combo, was eyeing the huge jug with a sly grin.</p><p class="p1">Adora frowned. “Is that all they had, or something? I don’t really know wines.”</p><p class="p1">“Well, the cashier said it was on sale, so obviously I’m already down. Also, they didn’t card me. Which was weird. In hindsight, it’s like they <em>wanted</em> me to buy—”</p><p class="p1">Glimmer shushed him, leaning in for a closer look at the bottle. The label reading <em>Chianti</em> featured a very stereotypical-looking Italian man in a chef’s outfit. She snorted, shaking her head. “You did the right thing. This stuff fucks you up, for real. You’ll see.”</p><p class="p1"><em>If anyone would know, it’s Glimmer, </em>Adora thought wryly. “Well, as long as I’m not the one carrying that monster when the cops come, I’m good.” She checked her watch. “We have like half an hour before it starts. You guys thinking what I’m thinking?”</p><p class="p1">She looked to Glimmer, who looked to Bow. They each breathed deeply before shouting:</p><p class="p1">“<em>PREGAME TIME!"</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>yes, i've had personal experiences with this very jug of red wine. yes, it'll be explained in gruesome detail in the next chapter.</p><p>also in the next chapter - the two narratives finally collide..</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. what we cannot bear</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ever been to a party that went really, really not how you expected?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey all! I had this written for awhile but I kept tweaking it til I was happy, so here you finally go. The next chapter should be up in a couple of days as well. Thanks to everyone who has subscribed/commented/left kudos so far! I really appreciate it!</p><p>Come find me (if you so wish) on tumblr: samshepard.tumblr.com.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p2">Catra could barely breathe.</p><p class="p2">After aggressively name-dropping Kyle to the wasted bouncer dude with a crewcut and no shoes at the front door, Catra found herself thrown into a sweaty throng of partygoers dancing their asses off under strings of dim Christmas lights strung along the walls. Compared to the cool night outside, the reeking air of the house was boiling. With her glasses suddenly fogged over, she instantly lost sight of Scorpia and Entrapta as they got sucked into the crowd. The bass-heavy music pounded through her torso like a second heartbeat, squeezing the air from her chest; she used all her strength to wiggle an arm free enough to undo a button on her shirt, almost knocking nearby solo cups from careless hands.</p><p class="p2">People in varying states of inebriation jostled her from every side and angle, herding her small frame deeper into the dense crowd. This was probably the peak size of the party, judging from how reluctant the door dude had been to let them in; no surprise if the cops showed up within an hour at this rate. This place was <em>loud.</em> To boot, Catra was far too sober.</p><p class="p2">She was starting to ponder (and regret) her habit of rolling up late to parties when Scorpia’s white undercut suddenly crested the undulating wave of bodies. Her wide-eyed, searching gaze alighted on Catra, immediately weaving (or barreling, more like) through the crowd towards her. Catra found herself grabbed and dragged through a convenient cleft in the throng—courtesy of her roommate’s imposing physique—to a blessedly vacant corner, where her glasses defogged enough to reveal an already-sweaty Scorpia looking down at her.</p><p class="p2">“Lost you for a second there, Wildcat!” Scorpia shouted over the thumping bass. She took in Catra’s queasy expression and frowned, leaning down a few inches. “Are you okay?”</p><p class="p2">Catra inhaled deeply a few times—the room was still far too warm and humid (delightfully sprinkled with the stench of old vomit and pot smoke), but this was still better than trying to breathe while crushed from all sides by a sea of alcohol-fueled horniness. “I’m fine,” she grunted through clenched teeth. “Gonna go find a drink.”</p><p class="p2">Scorpia shouted something after her about finding Kyle and Lonnie as Catra dove back into the crowd, searching for where people with full cups were packed most densely; that was usually where the line for a keg was. A few elbows and shoves later, Catra broke through and spotted a table with SIGMA KAPPA ZETA lettered onto the side in the shittiest handwriting (paint writing?) she’d ever seen. Behind the sorry excuse for a table stood no fewer than five kegs protected by one dude sporting a near identical crewcut to the bouncer outside, busily filling solo cups and passing them to the crowd. The cups were organized by color: red for single, blue for taken, and green for whatever the fuck “it’s complicated” meant.</p><p class="p2">Catra shoved her way to the very front, ignoring some slurred (though creative) insults hurled at her back. She rested her palms on the table and leaned forward to shout but the frat dude beat her to it.</p><p class="p2">“Hey, pretty lady! Welcome to <em>SIGMA KAPPA ZETA!</em>” He pounded on his chest and hooted, raising a chorus of hollers (somehow audible over the music) from other frat guys scattered throughout the house. Creepy. “But you can call us <em>the Horde!</em>”</p><p class="p2">As a second round of hooting reverberated around the room, Catra suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. She had half a mind to tell him what a dumb fucking name that was for a frat, but she was also a woman with priorities. “Sure, whatever. Can I get a drink?”</p><p class="p2">“Anything for you, damsel. Beer, or—” he leaned forward in an attempt to be conspiratorial, despite still shouting at the top of his lungs, “—our special blend, reserved only for the most drop-dead gorgeous attendees?”</p><p class="p2">Much as she wanted to slap him because of… the <em>everything</em> about him, a part of her mind—keenly honed from experience—figured that the special drink was probably pure liquor plus a drop of juice. “Sure, the second one. Let’s do it.”</p><p class="p2">“Coming right up.” The frat dude ducked under the table and resurfaced with a milk jug full of sickly green liquid. Without asking, he grabbed a red solo cup from the “single” stack and poured a sizable amount, handing it over with a wink. Catra snatched the cup and plunged into the crowd without a backward look.</p><p class="p2"><em>Prick</em>. <em>If someone hits on me, I swear to God… </em>Sure, romantic attention could (very rarely) feel like a compliment, but most of the time it just pissed her off. Dating remained solidly at the bottom of her priorities. Besides, most people only approached her when they were drunk or high; Scorpia of all people had noticed that trend way back in community college, chalking their skittishness up to Catra’s “scary, bad bitch vibe.” <em>Though somehow that only encouraged </em>her<em> more, </em>Catra thought wryly. She mentally shook off the memories of some choice attempts at courtship that Scorpia undertook before realizing it was <em>not </em>happening in any conceivable reality.</p><p class="p2">Either way, even if Catra wanted something like <em>that</em>, she didn’t have the time or attention span to do anything about it. Getting what she wanted—a degree, freedom, <em>whatever</em>—was all that mattered, and other people could go fuck themselves if they got in the way.</p><p class="p2">Holding her red “single” cup nearly vertically overhead, Catra propelled herself through the writhing mass and came out in front of the open entrance to the dining room. A game of beer pong was in full swing; judging by the creepy matching haircuts, one team was a pair of established Horde frat brothers and the other team was… Kyle and Lonnie, with only one cup left and clearly about to lose. Rogelio leaned against the wall behind them, nodding his head to the vibrations of the music as he and Scorpia signed with each other excitedly. Catra’s sign language skills had decayed a bit after she stopped living with the boy, but she got the gist: <em>party, fun, good to see you. </em>Happy friendship crap.</p><p class="p2">She leaned against the doorway, took a swig from the cup, and gagged. <em>Agh, fucking jungle juice. Tastes like… amaretto, dark beer, tequila… </em>She took a second, much smaller sip. <em>And… guava juice? How the fuck is this green?</em></p><p class="p2">Scorpia suddenly signed Catra’s name; she must have spoken it aloud as well, because Lonnie whipped her head around in the middle of her pong shot and missed by a mile. Shegrabbed Kyle roughly by the shoulders and said something that triggered a <em>very </em>animated discussion. Rogelio stepped into their space, signing hurriedly, and Scorpia was rooted to her spot, staring off into space like she’d seen a ghost.</p><p class="p2"><em>Yep, I want zero part of that bullshit. </em>Taste buds and liver be damned, Catra took a long pull from her cup and let her mind wander as she turned back to watch the crowd. She knew that the other foster kids had warmed up to Scorpia back at community college far more than they’d ever liked her, despite growing up together. That was fine. It was <em>whatever</em>.</p><p class="p2">Those three had been thick as thieves since they were kids, anyway, and Catra… she’d had Adora, as bitter as those memories tasted now. It made sense that the cliques stayed that way as they got older. Even though it was her idea to break away from the life Weaver expected of them by leaving town and going to college. Even though somewhere deep inside Catra felt like they owed her at least a “thanks” for becoming the core defender against Weaver’s bullshit, after… <em>after Adora decided to abandon us at the drop of a hat and fly into the fucking sunset with her new preppy rich friends. I guess money and a shiny new life beats all the shit we went through, huh?</em></p><p class="p2">The blaring intro to a pop song Catra hadn’t heard since high school came on over the speakers, heralded by a cacophony of groans and cheers.</p><p class="p2"><em>Clearly, Carly Rae Jepsen is a polarizing figure</em>.</p><p class="p2">The lyrics boomed through the noise of the crowd, each word tightening a vise around Catra’s chest.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">
  <em>You're stuck in my head, stuck on my heart, stuck on my body, body</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>I wanna go, get out of here, I'm sick of the party, party</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>I'd run away</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>I'd run away with you</em>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">Adora and Catra must have been barely sixteen when they heard this song playing on the radio at a diner or something. Adora had loved it immediately; by the third time she heard it, she knew every word.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p4">
  <em>This is the part, you've got to say all that you're feeling, feeling</em>
</p><p class="p4">
  <em>Packing a bag, we're leaving tonight when everyone's sleeping, sleeping</em>
</p><p class="p4">
  <em>Let's run away</em>
</p><p class="p4">
  <em>I'll run away with you</em>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p2">Catra had managed to rip the song off the internet and onto Adora’s crappy iPod Touch—one of many items (such as Catra’s drawing pencils and cash stash) kept well out of Weaver’s sight. Catra nearly regretted doing Adora that favor. She would play the song <em>constantly </em>when they were alone, shouting along to the words, grabbing Catra by the hands, and swinging her around until they were both red-faced and laughing. Until Catra had to admit it was an okay song. Until Catra felt glad she’d ripped the song for her, because of moments like those.</p><p class="p2">She took a sizable pull from her cup, chasing away bittersweet memories with the harsh bite of liquor.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">
  <em>'Cause you make me feel like</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>I could be driving you all night</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>And I'll find your lips in the street lights</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>I wanna be there with you</em>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">Sometimes, she wondered where Adora had gone after leaving junior year and finishing at Brightmoon fucking High. The few times they’d run into each other back home—before Catra stopped visiting, because who was there to see, anyway?—ended in shouting matches; not a lot of time for “so what’re you up to” and “hey how’ve you been.”</p><p class="p2">She grimaced, sipping from her cup once more. Those regrets were bottled up and buried deep, and she had no intention of unearthing them now. It was too late to change shit, anyhow.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">
  <em>Baby, take me to the feeling</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>I'll be your sinner, in secret</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>When the lights go out</em>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2"><em>Adora’s probably training for the goddamn Olympics. Running for President, maybe. </em>Catra sighed and reached for the thin vape in her breast pocket, only to have it violently knocked out of her hand by a squealing blur of pink and red. WIth a grunt, she bent down to pick the vape up from the (disgusting and nowhere near its original color) carpet, swearing under her breath as she straightened and brushed off the device. She scanned the crowd for the offending parties, fully intent on cussing them out, but froze when they came into focus. Her pulse spiked, painfully thundering in her temples.</p><p class="p2">
  <em>No fucking way.</em>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">
  <em>Run away with me</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Run away with me</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Baby, every single minute</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>I'll be your hero and win it</em>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">Two girls were dancing their hearts out, eyes closed, blindly edging their way into the crowd. The shorter of the two sported some obscene pink and purple outfit that matched her bright hair and (Catra had to admit) effectively showed off her many curves. Their faces gleamed with sweat under the dim Christmas lights.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">
  <em>When the lights go out</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Run away with me</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Run away with me</em>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">The taller girl—a blonde—wore a form-fitting red button up, sleeves rolled to the elbow. Her taut forearms were on full display as she effortlessly hefted a huge, half-full glass jug of red liquid that sloshed violently as she danced. In the other hand was a solo cup; from the looks of the spillage down the sides, it was full of the same green jungle juice in Catra’s cup. The cup was blue, for “taken.” Catra absently slipped the vape into her mouth and took a deep puff. She exhaled slowly, her gaze piercing the thin smoke as it curled around her head.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">
  <em>Up in the clouds, high as a kite, over the city, city</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>We never sleep, we never try, when you are with me, with me</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>I wanna stay</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>I wanna stay here with you</em>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">The buff girl with the jug sported a ponytail that was coming more undone by the second, and Catra could swear that there was a hint of a deflated poof at her hairline.</p><p class="p2">But it couldn’t be <em>her, </em>could it? Were Catra's glasses fogged up? Did the frat guy at the table slip something into her drink?</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">
  <em>'Cause you make me feel like</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>I could be driving you all night</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>And I'll find your lips in the street lights</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>I wanna be there with you</em>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">The two girls—entirely unaware of the piercing gaze laid on them from a few feet away—opened their eyes and smashed together in a clumsy half embrace, half dance, belting the lyrics. The taller girl’s eyes sparkled as she beamed at her friend. Even under the dim multicolored light, Catra could make out the color: a blend of steely gray and sky blue.</p><p class="p2">The girl in front of Catra was absolutely, unbelievably, <em>Adora</em>.</p><p class="p2">The sounds of the party were swept away by a tidal wave of emotion that flooded every one of Catra’s senses. Her body ached with a maelstrom of impulses, urges, and feelings that warred against each other, clashing like steel against stone. She leaned heavily against the wall at her back and took another long pull from her nearly empty cup. The liquor was finally starting to simmer in her veins. <em>I’m not nearly fucking drunk enough for this, this can’t be happening, how is she here, what are the fucking chances—</em></p><p class="p2">She was unmoored, cast off into an ocean that roiled with searing pain and bitter confusion. From somewhere outside of her body, she saw herself: a shell of a person fit only to be beaten, gutted, thrown to the side of the road and left to rot by an uncaring universe that took deep pleasure in breaking every bone in her body until she could no longer stand. Fear, rage, hurt, shame, and a million other unknowable feelings buffeted Catra from every direction, each as cold and biting as the last, threatening to crush her in the center of the storm.</p><p class="p2">In the eye of the hurricane lay the one feeling that Catra could not bear: the muted sensation of being… <em>happy </em>to see Adora. The idea was unconscionable, incomprehensible, but it slithered venomously beneath her breastbone nonetheless. She puffed hungrily on her vape, eager for the slight clarity the nicotine rush would bring.</p><p class="p2">How could Adora <em>possibly </em>have found her way to the same town—the same <em>college</em>—as Catra? She bitterly noted that it was probably the opposite. Adora had probably started at the oh-so-competitive four-year university right off the bat, and <em>Catra</em> had crawled her way through community college only to thrust herself into the same remote part of the fucking state as Adora. Like a moth to the flame; that, or a condemned woman to the firing squad.</p><p class="p2">A barely hidden, cowardly part of her screamed to just <em>run. </em></p><p class="p2">Catra turned away from the dancing crowd to make a quick exit through the dining room and out the back door, only to be met with four horrified, open-mouthed faces belonging to Scorpia, Lonnie, Kyle, and Rogelio. They'd long ago abandoned their beer pong game; instead, their eyes rapidly bounced between Catra and the dancing girls, waiting for the pin to drop.</p><p class="p2"><em>Well, fuck that, then. </em>She turned back to the crowd, seeking out a clear-ish path to the front door, but then Adora started <em>grinding </em>(<em>since when has she done shit like that?</em>) with that spoiled bitch <em>Sparkles or whatever the fuck her name is </em>as off-tempo as possible, laughing like she was having the time of her life, not even noticing that she’d nearly brained a few people with the glass jug. Not noticing her oldest, most hated friend standing a few feet away, suffering an eternity of torture within the few beats of a song, seconds from crushing the red cup in her clenched hand.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">
  <em>Run away with me</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Run away with me</em>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">Catra’s chest pounded feverishly as the song came to an end. She finished off her drink, crushed the cup, and tossed it into the crowd as the music quickly changed to a more contemporary dance track.</p><p class="p2">Adora and Sparkles—who held no cup, interesting—held each other at arms length, laughing, and took quick pulls from the enormous jug that made them grimace and laugh even harder. They started to turn and walk out of the crowd straight towards Catra, too busy with each other to notice.</p><p class="p2">The jungle juice fully kicked in, layering Catra’s sight with a ghoulish fog; she suddenly burned with a cold blaze that overwhelmed her senses, abolishing all prior thoughts of fleeing. Her vision blurred at the edges. Only Adora’s face remained in focus, smiling, shining, her strong jaw turned to the side, a trio of thin white scars reflecting the dim light. Sparkles suddenly snaked an arm around Adora’s waist, and Catra boiled over.</p><p class="p2"><em>Fine. Let’s fucking do this. </em>She pushed off the wall and stalked forward to meet them.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">—</p><p class="p2">Adora was… drunk, to put it lightly.</p><p class="p2">The best friends squad had been relaxing in lawn chairs around a small fire pit in the backyard for the past hour or two, slowly chipping away at the jug of wine. A steady stream of friendly and familiar faces would come to chat for a few minutes before flowing back into the party, leaving Bow, Adora, and Glimmer to spend most of their time shooting the shit, people-watching, and playing the occasional game.</p><p class="p2">Bow easily won a round of horseshoes, which he chalked up to good hand-eye coordination from years of archery club. Adora had beaten no fewer than five frat guys at arm wrestling, crowing loud enough to wake the dead every time their hands hit the table. Meanwhile, Glimmer had been kicking ass at flip cup by speedily out-chugging even some of the largest dudebros the crowd had to offer.</p><p class="p2">Speaking of Glimmer, the little shit had been laughing for half an hour about requesting a blue “taken” cup from the creepy dude serving drinks near the dance floor. Just when Adora thought that maybe Bow and Glimmer had <em>finally </em>figured their shit out, no: the blue cup was immediately shoved into <em>her</em> hand. Apparently, Glimmer had caught Adora grimacing at the taste of the wine, and the rest was history. Of course the jungle juice ended up being far worse. She was the luckiest person on Earth. </p><p class="p2"><em>You’re married to sports, duh, </em>Glimmer had joked, but Adora knew that the blue cup was also a shield against wandering eyes and hands. Years of self-defense training (thanks, JROTC) and sports had honed Adora’s reflexes into a weapon that sometimes went off, uh, unintentionally. She winced at the memory of nearly breaking a particularly overzealous dude’s hand at a bonfire party back in freshman year. Then there was that time a girl on the crew team hugged her suddenly from behind only to find herself flat on her back within half a second.</p><p class="p2">
  <em>I think she’s still mad at me for that.</em>
</p><p class="p2">All else aside, Adora wasn’t at the party to hook up, or date, or whatever. She didn’t really understand how people had the time for it in college, even without stuff like sports taking up the rest of their free time. There were barely enough hours in the day to study <em>and </em>eat <em>and </em>go to practice <em>and </em>go to the gym <em>and—</em></p><p class="p2">Plus, who knew where people would end up later in life? Adora and her hypothetical girlfriend (and yes, by now she had figured out that it would <em>definitely </em>be a girl, thanks very much) could end up having jobs on opposite sides of the country. Even worse, Adora had been thinking of trying for the Peace Corps after getting her engineering degree; she could end up anywhere on the<em> planet</em>.</p><p class="p2">From there her thoughts spiraled and wound tighter, raveling and unraveling, touching on the future, the present, and even the past—and she realized she hadn’t heard a word anyone had said for at least ten minutes. Also she didn’t even remember walking to the party, or coming to the backyard and sitting down. Or what day it was.</p><p class="p2"><em>Hmm, okay, yeah. I’m drunk. </em>Adora leaned back in her chair, cradling the wine jug like a baby. From the corner of her eye she noticed Bow watching her closely, clearly having been an audience to her face's trip down a laundry list of expressions. <em>B</em><em>ecause I literally can’t keep a poker face for shit and it’s the worst</em>.</p><p class="p2">“Hey, you good?” Bow asked, leaning over in his chair. The dim firelight played across his features and turned the thin, misty air golden.</p><p class="p2">“<em>Yeee-uup.</em>” <em>Shit, am I slurring? </em>Adora looked down and noticed the jug was nearly half empty. <em>What the hell?</em> “Who… who drank this?”</p><p class="p2">Bow and Glimmer shared an amused look across the fire pit before bursting into a mutual giggle fit. Glimmer collected herself enough to say, “You did, dumbass,” before devolving into laughter again. She reached over and hefted the jug from Adora’s lap, taking a hearty swig that ended in a cough. “Okay, we had <em>a little.”</em></p><p class="p2">Adora knit her brows; the last sober vestiges of her mind realized with mounting horror that she would be feeling the resulting hangover for a month, if not the rest of her life. She groaned. <em>Oh God, gym tomorrow is going to be fucking terrible. </em>Picturing the exercise-induced nausea and having to still hit her daily calorie count was almost enough to make her hurl, and then suddenly Lonnie was in the gym too—</p><p class="p2"><em>Wait, what? Oh. </em>Lonnie and Kyle had appeared across the fire pit from Adora, chatting with Bow and a slightly sullen Glimmer. Lonnie seemed to be in legitimately good spirits, which suited her; Adora had seen her pissed or scared so many times when they were kids that she’d forgotten the girl had a fun streak, too. Kyle, on the other hand, was staring at Adora like he was going to throw up. <em>Well it’s good to see you too, Kyle, </em>Adora thought, pouting slightly. <em>Wait, did I throw up on myself or something? </em>She hauled herself upright in the chair and tried to sneakily check her clothes.</p><p class="p2">Lonnie turned to her and grinned at the sight of Adora slumped forward, eyes glazed over, pawing at her pants. “Yo, you having a good time over there?”</p><p class="p2">With a shock, Adora snapped her head up, awkwardly pinning her hands under her thighs. “Heeey, Lonnie,” she replied cheerfully, adding a mellow “hi” aimed at Kyle’s general direction. “Um… great party?”</p><p class="p2">“You bet. Hey, we’re gonna play beer pong. Any of you guys in?”</p><p class="p2">Glimmer and Bow turned to look at Adora, who had already zoned out of the conversation, gazing absently at the night sky. “Hmm, that sounds like a no from us,” Bow quipped. “You guys have fun though!”</p><p class="p2">Lonnie chuckled knowingly and said she’d catch them later, leaving with Kyle in tow. Adora jerked her head up suddenly.</p><p class="p2">“You guys <em>sober </em>or something? I feel like… I’m the only drunk one.”</p><p class="p2">Bow chuckled and sagely tapped his temple with a finger. “Mm—no, I’m totally hammered, just better at hiding it.” Glimmer high-fived him, cackling like a demon.</p><p class="p2">Adora pouted, clumsily folding her arms—which was <em>really difficult </em>in the shirt she’d picked out, because the damn thing was way tighter than it was when she bought it in high school. It made sense that she’d put on some muscle from rowing, but <em>jeez—</em></p><p class="p2">Suddenly, the most beautiful sound filtered from the house into the night air, a song intro that should have won a Grammy by itself. It was as if a siren called to Adora, grasping her heart, pulling her into the melody; she and Glimmer turned to each other at the same time, clearly operating on the same level of stupidity and delight.</p><p class="p2">They turned to Bow, an unasked question hanging in the air. He held up his hands and grinned. “This is all you, ladies.”</p><p class="p2">Glimmer hefted the jug and rose unsteadily to her feet—<em>oof, I guess she really is drunk—</em>and extended her free hand to Adora, uttering the sweet, honeyed words Adora most wanted to hear.</p><p class="p2">“Let’s fuck shit up.”</p><p class="p2">Adora took the hand, remembering to grab her blue solo cup at the last second because <em>who cares I’m fucked tomorrow anyway, </em>and let herself be dragged behind Glimmer up the stairs to the back door of the house. A stream of people flooded into the backyard, probably trying to escape the glory of Carly Rae Jepsen—<em>the heathens.</em> Adora let Glimmer do most of the shoving (assisted by the jug) to finally get them through the back door and into the dining room.</p><p class="p2">The blurry forms of Lonnie, Kyle, and Rogelio—<em>oh damn I wanna say hi to Rogelio, shit—</em>as well as some Amazonian girl with a white undercut flew by Adora’s face as Glimmer hauled total ass to the dance floor. A weird sensation tickled the back of Adora’s brain; the tall girl with the undercut seemed familiar, somehow…</p><p class="p2">Adora and Glimmer jostled by someone leaning by the doorway as they finally made it to the living room. Adora nearly turned to say sorry, but then they were neck deep in the crowd, and Glimmer had shoved the glass jug into Adora’s free hand, and there was just a lot going on right now and she forgot about anything besides the beat of the music.</p><p class="p2">They danced wildly, crashing into the people around them. Adora hadn’t grown up with much music (<em>thanks, Weaver</em>) and was an awkward dancer at best, but alcohol has a funny way of loosening up the most awkward people. She danced with her eyes closed, trying to maintain a rhythm—and probably spilling the gross jungle juice down her arm—but she didn’t care. All that existed was the sweet sound of one of her all-time favorite songs. She knew every word, every beat, she’d heard it so many times—</p><p class="p2">A memory hit Adora like a lightning bolt, playing behind her closed lids: Adora and Catra dancing carelessly, just like she and Glimmer were now (well, Adora dancing, and dragging Catra along for the ride), gripping the other girl’s wrists, hauling her to her feet, getting in her face and shouting <em>run away with me</em> until Catra finally cracked a smile, her sharp canines glinting…</p><p class="p2">Adora opened her eyes and found Glimmer watching her curiously. Within no time (and much to Adora’s disappointment) the song started coming to an end; time to cap it off with a bang. She and Glimmer collided roughly, hugging and shouting the lyrics in each other’s faces through their laughter. This triggered a grinding war, a favorite drunken pastime of theirs to see who could act the most outrageously stupid in front of other people.</p><p class="p2">As usual, Adora would probably regret acting like such a dumbass (if she remembered any of this in the morning at all), but in the moment aggressively bashing their bodies together in the worst caricature of “sexy” dancing was the funniest thing in the world.</p><p class="p2">The beautiful song came to an end, replaced by a lame dance track. She and Glimmer parted, barely able to breathe, each taking a quick pull from the jug as they prepared to extract themselves from the crowd. Glimmer wrapped an arm around Adora’s waist and clung to her while catching her breath. Adora was about to poke fun at her friend’s lackluster stamina when some invisible, magnetic force pulled her eyes forward.</p><p class="p2">Adora’s gaze traveled up from a pair of high top Vans, over the black high-waisted jeans and blue button up shirt (nearly undone to the chest), coming to a stop on the face she knew like the back of her hand. A face that held the nose, mismatched eyes (though behind a pair of glasses now), full lips, and ears Adora would find with her fingers in the dark as a child on the first try (<em>nose—boom. Left eye—boom. I got you memorized, believe me yet?</em>), giggling as she proved her knowledge of the landscape, both to herself and the owner of the features.</p><p class="p2">A face on which Adora had landed a solid right hook at the <em>last</em> party they’d been to together, a split second after her jaw had been shredded by a set of acrylic nails.</p><p class="p2">“Hey, <em>Adora.”</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I don't apologize for my horrid taste in pop music--Run Away With Me is a bop, okay.</p><p>Liked it? Hated it? Leave a comment! See you in a few days.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. when the party's over</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Adora chugs a shitload of beer, Glimmer and Catra have a fun discussion, and there's lots of running. Bonus: that wine jug was a surprise tool that helped us later :)</p><p>TW for vomit, by the way -- the line it occurs in has an asterisk right before it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Guess who's back with yet another chapter (it's me)! I was encouraged to put my Catradora playlist here (warning: it's a lot of pop), so the link to that as well as my writing playlist for this fic are pasted below.</p><p>I owe this entire chapter to 'when the party's over' by Billie Eilish, so special shout out to that song in particular.</p><p>As always, big thanks to Pengibee and Blue_Magic; they have their own AO3 fics, so check 'em out!</p><p>Catradora playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3AAa0k3rkwYmW1onRC49qU?si=5X53WXXgQV2FwbHUqdluOA</p><p>writing playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5iyTDRpJzurNcrhMQyImOu?si=otKQsYnGSrOJMn9egicRDw</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">“Hey, <em>Adora,</em>” Catra jeered, injecting as much venom into her voice as possible. She edged closer to Adora and Glimmer, who were standing still with their mouths wide open.</p><p class="p1"><em>Wow. What I’d give to have a photo of this.</em> Catra sidled up to Adora and plucked the blue solo cup from her hand, holding the blonde’s gaze as she took a long sip. <em>Ew, it’s even warmer than mine was, </em>Catra thought, suppressing a grimace as she choked down a tepid mouthful of the jungle juice.</p><p class="p1">“Taken, huh?” Catra taunted, turning the blue cup in her hand like an art piece. “Who’s the lucky guy? Probably some sweaty gym rat, I bet. Ooh, or the student body president? I can’t decide which is more lame.” She took another stinging mouthful of the drink, never breaking eye contact.</p><p class="p1">“Catra…” Adora said, the name heavy with warning. Her eyes were laser focused on Catra’s face.</p><p class="p1"><em>This was fun and all, but time to start shit some real shit. </em>Catra turned on her heels, called “Welp, see ya,” over her shoulder, and started to strut away. A strangled scream of “<em>NO FUCKING WAY!” </em>erupted behind her right before she was roughly spun around, now abruptly face-to-face with the <em>spoiled rich bitch</em>.</p><p class="p1">“What the <em>fuck</em> are you doing here?” Sparkles, Glitter—Glimmer?— shouted into Catra’s face, loud enough to turn some heads their way. Adora still hadn’t moved from her spot. “I said, <em>why are you here?</em>”</p><p class="p1">Catra shoved Glimmer backwards into Adora, who landed a tight grip on the pink bitch's shoulder. Gritting her teeth, Catra held her chin high and spat, “Isn’t it obvious, moneybags? <em>I transferred here. </em>Put that in your pipe and fucking smoke it.”</p><p class="p1">With an outraged cry, Glimmer shook off Adora’s grip and surged towards Catra, pinning her to the wall and sending the the blue cup flying. Glimmer pulled an arm back—<em>wow, didn’t know she had it in her—</em>but her fist was suddenly caught by Scorpia, accompanied by the irritating, overly chipper dude that completed Adora’s little set of rich friends. <em>Uh, Joe? Moe. Bow!</em></p><p class="p1">“Whoa, everybody <em>calm down!</em>” Bow hollered, voice cracking. He pried Glimmer away from Catra and hauled her across the room, arguing the whole way, blocking her attempts to escape with his much larger body. Adora didn’t even turn her head, her dazed eyes still riveted on Catra.</p><p class="p1">Catra had barely caught her breath and readjusted her glasses when Lonnie, Kyle, and Rogelio rushed in with a few Horde frat guys in tow, eyes wide.</p><p class="p1">“What’s going on over here?”</p><p class="p1">“I didn’t know both of you guys would be here, this is my bad—”</p><p class="p1">“Was there a fight or something?”</p><p class="p1">“It’s my fault, I’m the one who invited her—”</p><p class="p1">The sudden cacophony of speech was indistinguishable from the thundering music, and Adora was still just wordlessly <em>staring</em>. Catra’s head spun, the emotion and intoxication coalescing into a smothering weight that muffled the outside world and cranked up the raging white noise reverberating in her skull.</p><p class="p1">“Wildcat?” That was Scorpia, gently touching Catra on the shoulder. She struggled to focus on the familiar voice. “Should we go?”</p><p class="p1">Catra wanted to scream<em> yes, no,</em> <em>I don’t know, I can’t think when Adora is just </em>looking <em>at me, why doesn’t she say something, why does everything I do fucking backfire? </em>but her voice was bricked up behind a thick wall of anger and confusion built on the desperate need for Adora to just <em>react. </em>But Adora was still standing there like a stone, cradling the jug, acting like Catra was the only thing in the room.</p><p class="p1">Something about the way Adora was just <em>looking at her</em> was infuriating. It laid bare Catra’s sins and fears, confronting her with a sharp sensation that had no face, no name, but left her trembling all the same.</p><p class="p1">Overwhelmed by her raw nakedness, Catra shoved at Scorpia and roared, “<em>Just leave me alone!</em>” before making a break for the backyard.</p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1">There were a million and one things that Adora wanted to say, ask, or demand: <em>How are you here? Did you know I was here? How have you been? I like your shoes. Why did you never call me? Is Glimmer right about what happened in high school—did you really do what she said you did? When did you get glasses?</em></p><p class="p1">Most of all, she wanted to say <em>I miss you. Even after everything, I think about you every day.</em></p><p class="p1">The haze of alcohol and the shock of seeing Catra here—in a place where Adora had been living with her absence for years—meant coherent speech was off the menu for a moment. She watched numbly as Catra blew past the small crowd around them and made a beeline for the back door, slowly processing the realization that this was a once-in-a-lifetime chance. If she could just convince Catra to <em>talk,</em> they might reopen old wounds… and possibly heal them, maybe for good. A surge of hope broke through the stupor of shock and inebriation, goading her into movement.</p><p class="p1">Adora shoved her way outside and whipped around wildly, hunting for Catra, hoping that she hadn’t already made a swift exit through the back gate. The universe was apparently smiling down on her; she picked up the dry rasp of Catra’s familiar <em>I’m pissed, don’t talk to me</em> voice filtering over from the fire pit where Adora had been sitting barely ten minutes ago. She was in a heated discussion with a short, purple-haired girl that Adora recognized from some of her past engineering classes. Catra replied curtly to something the girl said, then took a toke from a thin vape.</p><p class="p1">Despite her anxiety, Adora rolled her eyes in amusement. <em>Really, Catra? Vaping?</em></p><p class="p1">After shaking herself back to the mission at hand, Adora tumbled her way down the stairs. She made a very conscious effort to regain her balance and composure as she pushed through the backyard crowd, hyping herself up. <em>You got this. Just talk. Be friends again.</em></p><p class="p1">It was only when she was suddenly staring straight into Catra’s mismatched blue and golden eyes— narrowed to slits behind her glasses—that Adora remembered she had no actual plan.</p><p class="p1">In the light of the fire, Adora could more clearly see how Catra had changed from the last time they’d seen each other up close; there were thin streaks of gray at her temples, and she'd put on a little weight. She was probably eating better (or, knowing Catra’s picky inclinations, eating <em>more </em>of the same crap) since leaving Weaver’s house. Adora smiled at that, but soon withered under Catra’s unreadable stare.</p><p class="p1">The purple-haired girl suddenly shoved herself into Adora’s line of sight and waved, with what looked like a shot glass-sized solo cup in hand. “Hi, Adora! I’m Entrapta. We had a few classes together.”</p><p class="p1">“Uhh…” Adora painstakingly ripped her gaze from Catra. “Right. Calc one, Calc two, and some of—”</p><p class="p1">“—the engineering lower division requirements, yes. You remember! How interesting. Maybe we have some overlap this semester—”</p><p class="p1">Catra pointedly cleared her throat. Entrapta swiveled between her and Adora, seeming to finally perceive the tension in the air. “O!, I interrupted something. Back to my <em>social experiment</em>, then!” With that, she darted off, expertly weaving her way through the crowd until she vanished from sight.</p><p class="p1">Before Adora could process… any of that, Catra folded her arms and spoke, almost too quietly to hear. “Engineering, huh?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, um. Environmental engineering. And a communications minor. And an international studies minor,” Adora spluttered before forcing her mouth shut. It sounded so pompous when she listed it like that, and the last thing she wanted was for Catra to feel condescended to.</p><p class="p1">Catra simply hummed in reply and turned to the fire pit, the light washing over her lenses.Adora shifted her weight, legs still sore from dancing; fatigue quickly won out, so she settled into the same lawn chair she’d occupied most of the night. Adora took a deep breath to steel herself and looked up at Catra with a silent plea, slowly gesturing with an arm to the chair beside her.</p><p class="p1">Catra glanced at Adora, then the gate exiting the backyard, back to the fire pit, and back to Adora. Finally, she sighed, taking a chair one over from Adora’s seat. She pointed at the wine jug in an unspoken question; Adora tossed it to her, Catra deftly catching it mid-air. She smoothly uncapped the jug and took a long pull, grimacing deeply. <em>Yeah, I didn’t like it, either,</em> Adora thought, failing to find her voice.</p><p class="p1">A gentle rain started to fall, sending some of the backyard crowd into the shelter of the house. An eternity of silence seemed to pass as the two girls laid eyes on everything around them except each other, and Adora grew more twitchy by the second.</p><p class="p1">Being beside herself barely covered it; Adora struggled to even hold an individual train of thought through the haze of booze and <em>everything else</em> surging through her mind like a tsunami.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Oh my God it’s happening what do I do what do I say—</em>
</p><p class="p1">Adora finally looked at Catra, still gazing into the fire. “You surprised at my major or something? I’m not stupid, y'know.” <em>Oh fuck that was stupid. </em></p><p class="p1">Catra almost smirked as she absently tapped her fingers against the jug, <em>tink, tink, tink</em>. “Guess not. But you <em>are </em>an idiot.”</p><p class="p1">Adora huffed, only slightly offended by the familiar jab. “What’s <em>that </em>s’posed to mean?”</p><p class="p1">Catra had no reply; instead, she kept her gaze on the fire and drank from the jug.</p><p class="p1">Maybe it was the alcohol, the silence, or the shock of seeing Catra—probably all three—but an oily, ugly feeling simmered its way to the surface, crawling on Adora’s skin like a mass of insects. <em>Well. Time to rip off the band-aid.</em></p><p class="p1">“Catra…” Adora ground out, clenching her fists. She carefully reigned back the slur in her words so she would sound as coherent as possible. “…Why didn’t you ever pick up the phone?”</p><p class="p1">“New phone, who dis,” Catra muttered, her sarcasm turning Adora’s blood to hot lava.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>All right, you little shit.</em>
</p><p class="p1">“I’m serious. I called you like… a <em>million </em>fucking times. Every time I saw you back home—” Adora choked as she revisited the same scene repeating in a cycle: <em>screaming, shouting, shoving. </em>Adora couldn’t remember how it ever started, just that whenever she and Catra had randomly encountered each other at a boba shop, or the park, or <em>anywhere </em>over the last three years, they’d tried to murder each other.</p><p class="p1">Adora swallowed hard. “I didn’t know you were going to college, or that you were—”</p><p class="p1">Catra snapped her head up to meet Adora’s eyes with a sharp glare. “That I was <em>what, </em>Adora?”</p><p class="p1">“That you were <em>safe!</em>”</p><p class="p1">“Wow.” Catra chuckled darkly, taking her third pull from the jug in as many minutes, no longer wincing at the taste. Adora didn’t remember her drinking like that back in high school—she drank a little in those days behind Weaver’s back, but this was <em>drinking </em>drinking<em>.</em> “And there it is. Always the hero, the protector, the holier-than-thou white knight coming to save everyone else’s ass because we can’t be trusted to take care of ourselves. Right?”</p><p class="p1">Adora flinched, her stomach boiling over with anxiety. “Catra, what’re you—”</p><p class="p1">“You know, I don’t get why you pretend to care. You left us. You left <em>me.</em>” Catra reached up a hand to roughly slick back her hair as the rain came down steadily, droplets scattering across the front of her glasses. “And you didn’t give a<em> shit</em> about it. You haven’t changed at all.”</p><p class="p1">With that, Catra rose from the chair and grabbed a nearby frat guy by the arm, demanding something in a low voice. Adora melted into her seat, rapidly losing her grip on the world. <em>Is she right? Do I really act like I’m better than everyone? That’s not true at all. I fucking </em>suck <em>and everyone knows it, me most of all. </em></p><p class="p1">The frat guy—eyes wide—darted off into the house. Catra stole a low table from a group of people nearby who raised an uproar before catching a sharp look and shrinking away. Catra sauntered back into her seat and settled the table between her and Adora, snapping her fingers to get Adora’s attention.</p><p class="p1">“You really wanna talk? Fine. We’re gonna do this <em>my way.</em>”</p><p class="p1">Adora gulped. “What’s ‘<em>your way</em>?’”</p><p class="p1">“Seven, eleven, or doubles.” Catra smirked playfully, but her eyes simmered with something dark. Adora chewed her lip when the frat guy returned with a pair of dice, a green solo cup, and a case of beer. He opened his mouth to speak but Catra clicked her tongue and shooed him away with a hand, sending him off to mope elsewhere.</p><p class="p1">“So, a game?” Adora finally asked. She’d played beer pong, flip cup, horseshoes, stuff like that, but what the hell was <em>seven, eleven, or doubles</em>?</p><p class="p1">Catra cracked open a can of beer, filling the green cup and setting it on the table in front of Adora. “As soon as you grab the beer to drink, I start rolling the dice. If I get a seven, an eleven, or doubles—in other words, ‘a roll’—before you finish the cup, we refill it and start all over. If you finish the cup before I make a roll, it’s your turn with the dice and my turn to drink. Make sense?”</p><p class="p1">“Uhh, sure,” Adora mumbled. The mix of wine and jungle juice was definitely dulling her senses, but the game seemed simple enough. How bad could pounding down a few shitty beers be, as long as it meant that Catra would finally talk to her?</p><p class="p1">There was, however, one problem. “How are we gonna talk, though? Since, um, all the… chugging.”</p><p class="p1">“Easy. You finish the cup, you get to ask me a question. If I roll and you have to restart, you answer one of mine, and vice-versa when we swap. Now let’s do this.” Catra leaned over the table, settling into a ‘ready’ pose. “Oh, and I can’t start rolling until you touch the cup; otherwise, I have to drink it.”</p><p class="p1">Adora’s eyes flickered from the beer to Catra’s hand hovering over the dice. She made a clumsy feint for the beer, but Catra’s hand didn’t even twitch. The girl chuckled humorlessly. “You’ll have to try harder than that, <em>princess.</em>”</p><p class="p1"><em>Okay, smart ass. </em>Adora grabbed the cup and threw her head back to chug full force, her throat stinging. The dice rattled on the table as Catra rolled them over and over at light speed. Adora was about three-quarters of the way through the cup when Catra declared “seven!”</p><p class="p1">Adora lowered the beer, gasping for breath; the dice read one and six. <em>What the fuck?</em>“You cheated,” she whined, wiping the rain from her eyes.</p><p class="p1">Catra’s lips twitched in amusement as she refilled Adora’s cup. “So. You get the sports scholarship you wanted?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah. Crew team.” Adora’s hand shot out and grabbed the refilled cup, trying to open her throat to vacuum down the drink rather than taking individual swallows. Within a few seconds, Adora slammed down the empty solo cup, hooting triumphantly and grabbing the dice from Catra’s hand.</p><p class="p1">Catra cursed and cracked open a fresh can, waiting for Adora’s question with a raised eyebrow as she poured the beer.</p><p class="p1">Adora decided to air out something that had been worming its way around in her head for nearly two years before coming to the forefront of her mind only a few minutes prior. “Who’s the tall girl with the, uh… hair? I think I saw you two at the mall once, back home. Over a year ago.”</p><p class="p1">Catra frowned. “That’s Scorpia, my roommate. Met in community college. We live with Entrapta, by the way.” She darted for the cup and brought it to her lips in one smooth motion, leaving Adora to scramble for the dice and start rolling.</p><p class="p1"><em>A three and a one, fuck. Two and a four, nope. Double fives, yes! </em>Adora looked up, ready to gloat, but Catra gazed back smugly. She pointed to the empty cup already on the table.</p><p class="p1">Adora tossed the dice to Catra and threw her hands in the air. “What the—”</p><p class="p1">“So,” Catra cut in, apparently unaffected by the beer she’d just inhaled. “What’s with you and Sparkles?”</p><p class="p1">“Glimmer?” Adora watched as Catra opened yet another beer and poured it, her already <em>very full </em>stomach coiling sickly. “What d’you mean?”</p><p class="p1">“You two were real <em>friendly</em> in there. Just wondering if all the men in the world should hold a pity party for themselves,” Catra replied, setting down the empty can and casually tracing the wood grain of the table with a finger.</p><p class="p1"><em>Oh my God. </em>“Me and Glimmer? No way, not even a little. Besides, her and Bow—”</p><p class="p1">“Okay, okay. I didn’t ask for your life story. You gonna drink that, or what?” Catra pointed at the beer as Adora tried to process the sudden raging flood of thoughts.</p><p class="p1"><em>I completely forgot. She doesn’t know about… me. Because I never told her. </em>One of many regrets, summed up into a few words: <em>I didn’t tell her. I didn’t know how.</em></p><p class="p1">As Adora reached for the cup, her mind wrestled free of her control, irresistibly drawn to the events of <em>that</em> apocalyptic night, three years ago and change.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“You're fucking</em>
  <em> transferring?” Catra roared, her nose an inch from Adora’s, the scent of vodka on her breath. Her mismatched eyes sparkled under the strobe lights that lit Glimmer's living room. “How could you keep that from me?”</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Adora, flanked by Bow and Glimmer, stood face to face with Catra, Lonnie, Kyle, and Rogelio. Kyle was frantically signing the exchange to Rogelio, while Lonnie kept landing a firm grip on Catra’s shoulder that she repeatedly shrugged offm. </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“I wanted to, Catra. I just didn’t know how. I tried so many times—”</em>
</p><p class="p1"><em>“So what, you just wait until right before summer break to tell me that not only are you changing schools, you’re going to live with </em>this <em>spoiled bitch</em>?<em>” Catra pointed a finger capped with a black acrylic nail right at Glimmer, who flinched. “And I didn’t even hear it from you.”</em></p><p class="p1">
  <em>Adora had to admit that Catra receiving the news through Bow’s… unfortunate slip of the tongue was not ideal. Receiving the news in the sizable living room of the house Adora was about to live in probably didn’t help either. But she was a little buzzed, more than a little frustrated, and the thump of the party music made it hard to think straight. </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Only one thought rang clear; inviting the other foster kids to an end-of-the-semester party at Glimmer’s house in a lame attempt to fully connect the two sides of Adora’s life had been a dreadful mistake. Catra had always seemed disinterested or even angry when Adora mentioned her new friends—how on earth did she think a party would fix that? </em>
</p><p class="p1"><em>Adora firmly believed that leaving was a good thing, though; if she made it out, it meant the other kids could too. Maybe she could even help. “I didn’t ask Glimmer’s mom for any of this, it just </em>happened. <em>I thought you’d be happy for me!”</em></p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Happy for you? Are you out of your fucking mind?” Catra surged forward and seized Adora by the shoulders, looking up at her, breathing hotly into her face. Adora could swear she saw the ghost of tears dancing at the corner of Catra’s eyes, something she'd barely seen since they were kids. “How could you do this to me?”</em>
</p><p class="p1"><em>Adora shoved her off, planting her feet. Catra had to understand that this wasn’t about </em>Adora<em>—</em><em>not really. “I’m doing this for</em> you!<em>”</em></p><p class="p1">
  <em>Within the span of a millisecond, Catra’s hand shot out, the sharp acrylics raking over Adora’s jaw. Years of training took hold of Adora’s arm, hauling her fist back and rocketing forward—</em>
</p><p class="p1">“Adora? Still with me?”</p><p class="p1">She turned in a daze, the image of Catra at seventeen—gangly, hair wild, all teeth and muttering—laid over the more polished, somehow less hot-to-the-touch version before her.</p><p class="p1">Adora remembered Catra struggling to her feet after the punch, knocking away her frantic apologies and attempts to help, and stalking out of the party with one last remark: “<em>You broke your promise</em>.”</p><p class="p1">In the aftermath of that night—Angella’s accident, cutting Weaver out, starting fresh at a new school, working her ass off to get ready for college—those words from Catra had haunted Adora more than anything else.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Y</em>
  <em>ou broke your promise.</em>
</p><p class="p1">Five minutes of one night had led to three years of nearly no contact aside from the occasional spat when they ran into each other over school breaks. Adora sighed; she had never thought deeply of it, but now she pondered why the both of them had felt drawn to their old haunts. It was almost like they unconsciously sought each other out, only to fall further apart when they collided over and over again in flames.</p><p class="p1">“Sorry,” Adora whispered, her stomach twisted into knots. She blinked hard, willing herself not to come apart and weep.</p><p class="p1">“No worries, you just finished before I rolled, is all.” Catra took the cup from Adora and filled it for her own turn. “So, what’s your question—”</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry,” Adora said again, struggling to keep her eyes focused. <em>For not telling you, for leaving, for not being there, not being with you, for not doing the right thing. For not knowing anything about who you are now. </em>“For punching you.”</p><p class="p1">Catra looked up sharply, her eyebrows raised. Her face fell as she glanced away from Adora’s unyielding gaze, eyes glued to the cup in her hands. “Don’t be,” she muttered. “I hit you first, and… it scarred, didn’t it?”</p><p class="p1">The girl’s sheepish, shameful look was nearly enough to wrench a sob from Adora. <em>This is the moment. Fuck this game. Let’s finally talk, for real. </em>She hesitantly reached out a hand, gently brushing Catra’s wrist. “Catra, do you want to leave—?”</p><p class="p1">“Adora, <em>what the fuck</em>?” Glimmer shouted, marching across the yard with Bow frantically keeping pace at her side. “I’ve been looking all over for you. We need to go, <em>now</em>.”</p><p class="p1">“We’re busy, Sparkles,” Catra spat as she pulled away from Adora, still holding the cup of beer, her familiar combative edge back in full force.</p><p class="p1">Glimmer slapped the cup from Catra’s hand, spilling most of the beer over her clothes.Bow let out a long groan. “Don’t you <em>fucking </em>talk to me. I haven’t forgotten what you did, you piece of shit.”</p><p class="p1">Catra looked more shocked than angry (<em>because if she was really mad, Glimmer would already be on the ground</em>), but Adora’s head still swam sickeningly, her heart punching holes in her chest. She clutched at her stomach as it threatened to invert itself. <em>Oh shit, oh fuck. </em>“Glimmer—”</p><p class="p1">“Adora, stop making excuses for her. You never believed it, but I know I’m right. I know what she fucking did.”</p><p class="p1">Catra shot to her feet, wobbling slightly, the beer and rain soaking into her blue shirt. Bow reached out a hand to steady her before thinking better of it and pulling back. Adora could relate; she was frozen to the spot, completely lost.</p><p class="p1">Catra panted heavily, rapidly clenching and unclenching her fists. “What the <em>fuck </em>are you talking about?”</p><p class="p1">“That’s hilarious. You’re really going to play pretend?”</p><p class="p1">“I have no idea what you’re fucking—”</p><p class="p1">Though Catra was short, Glimmer was shorter; she grabbed a handful of Catra’s collar and hauled her down to eye level. “You almost killed my fucking mom!”</p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1">Reeling, Catra struggled to think through the fog of booze-addled rage. Her mom? <em>What the fuck is she… oh. Oh shit.</em></p><p class="p1">The fucking car.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>After Catra had limped outside, face swelling, near tears, and more than a little drunk from rich people vodka, she found herself in the driveway face to face with that bitch’s fancy Mercedes. Catra had seen it from a distance more than once, picking Adora up for movie night or whatever the fuck.</em>
</p><p class="p1"><em>Finding a way to open the locked hood wasn’t easy, but Catra was both clever </em>and<em> pissed. </em></p><p class="p1">
  <em>She no longer remembered what she tampered with, only that she had the intention of ruining the rich asshole’s day tomorrow. She grinned maliciously at the thought of Sparkles getting in her fancy car the next morning to go do whatever it was rich people did. She would turn the key and probably scream her head off when the car didn’t start. Hoo boy, what Catra would give to see that.</em>
</p><p class="p1">In the present, Catra could only numbly repeat, “What. Are you. Talking about?”</p><p class="p1">Glimmer screeched in frustration, throwing her hands up. “I know you fucked up my car. My mom took it the next day because hers was in the shop. It crapped out on the highway and<em> she spun off the fucking road</em>! She rammed straight into someone else and <em>she was in the hospital for a month.</em>”</p><p class="p1">Adora was suddenly on her feet, eyes ricocheting between the two furious girls as she struggled to stand straight. “Glimmer, please—”</p><p class="p1">“I know you don’t think she did it, Adora, but the mechanic said—”</p><p class="p1">“It was me,” Catra mumbled, unable to tame the tremor in her voice. Despite her fury, Glimmer aimed a pointed “I told you so” look at Adora, while Bow meekly dropped his head into his hands.</p><p class="p1">“Catra…” The blonde whispered, devastation written all over her face. Rain—or tears—streamed down her cheeks as she leveled a haunted stare at Catra, the kind of look that said <em>how could you, I didn’t know you had it in you, did I ever know you at all</em>?</p><p class="p1"><em>And it had been going so fucking well, </em>Catra thought sarcastically, misery oozing from every pore.</p><p class="p1">“I didn’t know,” Catra continued in a low voice. “The car wasn’t supposed to start. I was just… trying to piss you off.”</p><p class="p1">Glimmer snorted, shaking her head. “Unbelievable. Not that I want an apology from you because it wouldn’t be worth shit, but that doesn’t even come close to one.”</p><p class="p1">Her tone—snooty, proud, vicious, and <em>justified</em>—set Catra’s veins ablaze, her vision flooding with red and black as she dug her nails into her palms. She fought with the base impulse to evade, to lash out, and lost.</p><p class="p1">“What the fuck do you want me to say? I didn’t know that would happen. There’s nothing I can do about it now, so why don’t you just <em>fuck off?</em>”</p><p class="p1">“You know what—”</p><p class="p1">“—guys, listen—” Adora cut in with a groan right as Bow whined: “Can’t we all just <em>stop</em> and talk this through—”</p><p class="p1">“<em>Guys,</em>” Adora wailed again. Catra and Glimmer turned to her, eyes blazing. Panting, clutching her arms tight to her torso, Adora muttered: “Don’t you <em>hear</em> that?”</p><p class="p1">“Hear what?” Catra demanded, but she suddenly heard the sound before the words were fully out.</p><p class="p1">Sirens.</p><p class="p1">The backyard suddenly erupted, people hauling ass left and right to escape before the cops arrived. A heavy blow to the back nearly flattened Catra; she found herself shoved directly into Glimmer’s chest before they were torn apart again by flying elbows and hands. Bow and Glimmer were suddenly carried away from her by the wave of bodies as flashing red and blue lights rapidly encroached on the backyard, reflecting off the rain-slicked fence.</p><p class="p1">Catra turned and saw Adora a few paces away, on her ass in the mud, seconds from getting kicked in the face by charging feet. She rushed over, hauled the blonde to her feet, and made a break for the fence.</p><p class="p1">“Adora, come on, come on,” Catra yelled, supporting Adora’s waist as the taller girl made an unsteady jump for the top of the wooden fence. <em>Where’s a chainlink fence when you fucking need one? </em></p><p class="p1">Now straddling the top, Adora reached down a hand; of course, drunk Adora made the mistake of using her full strength to hoist Catra up, sending them both tumbling over the other side into a bush.</p><p class="p1">“Ow, fuck,” Adora muttered, rubbing her head; her ponytail had come fully undone, the wet hair falling in sticky waves around her sour face. Catra rose unsteadily to her feet, pulling Adora’s substantial weight up with her.</p><p class="p1">“We need to run. Now.”</p><p class="p1">Adora nodded and abruptly charged off in what was probably a completely random direction, Catra struggling to keep up behind her. Adora was no doubt scared shitless of losing her scholarship or worse—as for Catra, it wasn’t a good look to get a ticket for underaged drinking before you even start your first damn semester.</p><p class="p1">Though definitely shitfaced, Adora’s body moved like a well-oiled machine; her legs pumped in a steady rhythm, breathing evenly as Catra huffed and gasped beside her, struggling to see through the raindrops on her lenses. Catra was no slouch, though; she walked nearly everywhere because asking Scorpia for a ride was just embarrassing and buses fucking sucked. She sometimes dabbled in yoga, even—but that was a secret Catra would take to the grave.</p><p class="p1">They ducked through alleyways and front yards, occasionally passing a fellow partygoer on the run. In a flash, Adora stopped short and tackled Catra into someone’s hedge, crushing the wind from her lungs with a guttural <em>oof</em>.</p><p class="p1">“Wha—”</p><p class="p1">“Shh.” Adora clamped her calloused palm over Catra’s mouth, ignoring her groans of displeasure.Adora used her body like a deadweight on the smaller girl’s slender frame to press her deeper into the hedge. “Cops.”</p><p class="p1">Catra’s eyes slid beyond their hiding spot and saw a patrol car passing by slowly, headlights off. A year seemed to pass before Adora released her grip on Catra’s face, instead using the hand to muffle a sudden burst of giggling.</p><p class="p1">Catra reddened, glaring at the girl perched above her. She pointedly ignored the fact that Adora was having no problem holding up her full weight with only one hand. She also avoided consciously acknowledging the tickle of Adora’s wet hair on her cheeks. “What’s so funny?”</p><p class="p1">“You got twigs and shit <em>all up in </em>your hair, dude,” Adora whispered, giggling again.</p><p class="p1">“This coming from the girl covered in mud? Whatever makes you feel good, pal,” Catra shot back, unable to suppress a slight grin. Adora’s laughter mellowed into a gentle smile as she placed her hand back on the ground next to Catra’s side.</p><p class="p1">That tender expression melted into something far more somber and Catra braced herself with mounting dread. Adora set her lips into a thin line, her brows coming together.</p><p class="p1">“Catra… about Glimmer’s mom—” Adora started before abruptly shutting her mouth with an audible click, eyes widening.</p><p class="p1">“Um… Adora?”</p><p class="p1">*</p><p class="p1">Adora dug her hands beneath Catra and shoved her away an instant before hunching over and vomiting a stream of pure red liquid.</p><p class="p1"><em>How much of that fucking wine did she drink? </em>Catra wondered, amazed. She scooted closer and gathered Adora’s loose hair in her hands as the poor girl continued to retch. Catra now felt more than a little guilty about making Adora play the drinking game, but… <em>oh well, too late.</em></p><p class="p1">Adora whimpered between heaves, struggling to breathe. Catra held the blonde’s wet mass of hair off her shoulders and gently kneaded the taut, trembling muscles of her back. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay. You’re okay,” she breathed softly. “I’ve got you.”</p><p class="p1">Within a minute or two, it was over; Adora shuddered and leaned heavily against Catra, taking shallow, uneven breaths.</p><p class="p1">“I… don’t feel so good,” she said lamely, turning to Catra with watery eyes.</p><p class="p1">Catra snorted, sliding her hand up to gently massage the blonde’s neck. “Could’ve fooled me.” <em>Whoa, that's... intimate. </em></p><p class="p1">She broke the contact quickly, shoving aside the hedge as she got to her feet and helped Adora up. Amused, Catra noted that the hedge was totally wrecked by a perfect Catra/Adora-sized hole; plus, there was a nice puddle of red vomit for someone to find later. The sound of sirens, though far, brought her back to the problem at hand.</p><p class="p1">“Come on, let’s get you home,” Catra said. She paused. “Uh, where do you live?”</p><p class="p1">Adora glanced around, eyes unfocused. She threw an arm around Catra’s shoulders and pointed left. “That way. Or,” she swiveled them both, pointing in the opposite direction. “Maybe that way.”</p><p class="p1">With a sigh, Catra took a look around and realized they were fairly close to her own apartment. She awkwardly cleared her throat. “Listen, um. I live pretty close by, so maybe we should just crash at my place.”</p><p class="p1"><em>Wow, not at all how I expected this night to go. Come to a party, Scorpia said. There will be booze, Scorpia said. Nobody said anything about running into Adora, who I didn’t even know was here, and helping her barf into a bush</em>.</p><p class="p1">“Okay,” Adora replied in a small, sleepy voice, resting her cheek on top of Catra’s head. The shorter girl lamented that she had never closed the gap in their heights—Adora must have had four inches on her, now. <em>Always the winner.</em></p><p class="p1">Once again, Catra shook herself back into the moment. She walked them the couple of blocks to her apartment, Adora leaning on her the entire way. At the threshold, she awkwardly shifted under Adora’s arm to fish out her keys and unlock the door, pushing it open right into Scorpia’s torso.</p><p class="p1">“Wildcat! Thank God, I—” She trailed off, taking in the sight of Adora. “Uh, what’s, uh…what?”</p><p class="p1">Catra pushed past her, struggling under Adora’s weight. The blonde was about ten seconds away from sleeping on her feet, so Catra simply muttered “we’ll talk later” to Scorpia and dragged Adora to her bedroom, pushing the door open with a foot.</p><p class="p1"><em>Oh fuck I should have cleaned </em>was Catra’s first thought, quickly followed by:<em> like I could have predicted an impromptu sleepover? </em></p><p class="p1">Groaning inwardly, Catra left Adora wobbling in the doorway as she frantically scooped up beer cans and snack wrappers to deposit in her near-empty trash can. She started to smooth the cover on the floor futon a bit before Adora toddled over and slammed down with a wet smack, giggling the whole way, completely ignorant of the fact that she was still covered in mud and rain.</p><p class="p1"><em>Christ, we’re both soaked. </em>“Uh, okay. Let me get you some clothes.” Catra dug through her clean clothes pile (sneakily shoving the other piles into the closet as she did so) and fished out a tank top and shorts for Adora, along with an oversized t-shirt to replace her own beer-soaked outfit. She turned and nearly burst into flames at the sight of Adora already unbuttoning and pulling off her wet shirt, revealing the black sports bra underneath.</p><p class="p1">Adora looked up at her curiously before blushing and covering herself with the shirt. “Oops. Old habits.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, well, we’re not kids anymore.” Catra tossed her the clothes and made a beeline for the door, her sleep shirt clenched tightly in hand.</p><p class="p1">“Catra?” Adora called softly.</p><p class="p1">Catra stopped but didn’t turn. “Yes?”</p><p class="p1">“Does this…” Adora took in a shaky breath as she continued to change, the rustle of clothes echoing in the heavy silence. “Does this mean we’re okay again?”</p><p class="p1"><em>I don’t even know where to start with that, </em>Catra thought, wringing the shirt tightly between her hands, shoulders hunched. Could Adora forgive her so easily for everything? Was she really that kind—or that stupid?</p><p class="p1">Before she decided to throw up her intestines, Adora had been a second away from talking about Glimmer’s mom again. Catra was positive that <em>that </em>can of worms was far from empty; besides, as soon as Adora was back with her friends—especially Sparkles—she’d probably be turned against Catra all over again.</p><p class="p1">There was just too much; too much history, too much pain, too much between them to be breached in one night, if ever. Maybe they weren’t meant to reconnect, because how could things ever go back to the way they used to be? Catra wasn’t a child anymore, and neither was Adora.</p><p class="p1">If anything, Catra viewed their chance meeting as an opportunity for closure, not rekindling. She and Adora had talked a little, they knew that the other was alive, rehashed some shit… that was probably as good as it was going to get.</p><p class="p1">Catra breathed in slowly through her nostrils, condensing her feelings to the size of a pinprick and swallowing it deep.</p><p class="p1">“You should probably text your friends and tell them you’re safe.”</p><p class="p1">She left without looking back, shutting the door behind her with a click.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes, I've played that drinking game. Yes, it's terrible.</p><p>Yes, the wine jug story is real (including the puke part).</p><p>Let me know what you thought! Any and all comments are appreciated.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. firetruck red</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Adora wakes up. So does Catra.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In case anyone is confused, I changed the title of the fic to something I'd been considering for awhile (seeing as the previous one was more of a working title).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <em>You broke your promise.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Adora felt the skin of her jaw tear open; her fist flew forward to collide with Catra’s cheek—</em>
</p><p class="p1">Adora shot upright as she suddenly came awake, slamming into something hard. Her hand flew to her forehead as she fell back with a low groan.</p><p class="p1"><em>Jeez, I hate having a loft bunk—wait. </em>She and Glimmer had moved out of the dorms forever ago, and this room… wasn’t hers.</p><p class="p1">Her eyes focused slowly, the early morning sunlight igniting a dull ache in her skull as she took in the unfamiliar surroundings. She was laid out on some sort of thin futon positioned perilously close to the underside of a desk corner.</p><p class="p1">Adora sat up sluggishly, taking great care to avoid hitting her head on the desk again. The room tilted as she looked down at her unfamiliar clothes.</p><p class="p1">A queasy knot settled itself deep in her stomach. <em>God, I’m hungover as hell.</em> <em>Okay. I’m wearing a tank top and some shorts that are… definitely not mine, because they’re way too tight. </em></p><p class="p1">Another glance around the sparsely furnished room told her nothing; no photos or art, nothing with a name on it that was in plain sight. The room looked barely lived in: just a desk, a futon, and a trash bin filled with a shitload of beer cans and… vape cartridges?</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Oh my God, the party… and Catra. </em>
</p><p class="p1">The memories returned in a hazy stream: dancing with Glimmer, playing a horrible drinking game with Catra, running from the cops, hiding in a bush… suddenly, Adora recognized the bitter, tangy flavor in her mouth. <em>Definitely threw up last night, too. What a mess. Catra… brought me to her house?</em></p><p class="p1">Well, that was weird. Adora turned a fresh eye to the room and could now see hints of Catra all around. The controlled mess, a little pack of drawing pencils under the desk, and…the scent. Mostly the smell of stale beer, but also a faint hint of Catra’s unique essence that Adora would recognize anywhere: a warming mix of conditioner, citrus, and a dash of cloves. Adora smiled ever so slightly.</p><p class="p1">Upon spotting her muddy clothes from last night heaped a few feet away, Adora carefully shifted to slide her phone from the damp pants pocket and noted the time: 8:03am, a fair bit later than her usual weekend wakeup time of 6am sharp. Her stomach rolled as she opened her messages.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Thirty texts from Glimmer? Fourteen missed calls? Holy hell. Did I climb something last night? Did I fight a cop? </em>
</p><p class="p1">The texts were mostly “adora where the fuck are you,” “adora answer me oh my god,” <em>ad infinitum</em>. Then, near the very bottom, was one text from Adora herself:</p><p class="p1">&gt; <em>i</em><em>m ok havin a slepever gnnnn luv u bye</em></p><p class="p1">“Wow, smooth,” Adora mumbled. Glimmer’s replies on the other hand…</p><p class="p1"><b> <em>Glimmer: </em> </b> <em>uh</em></p><p class="p1"><b> <em>Glimmer: </em> </b> <em>where</em></p><p class="p1"><b> <em>Glimmer: </em> </b> <em>literally where</em></p><p class="p1"><b> <em>Glimmer: </em> </b> <em>adora I stg I will murder you</em></p><p class="p1">
  <strong>
    <em>Glimmer:</em>
  </strong>
  <em> motherfuck!!!!</em>
</p><p class="p1">Adora groaned, fully aware of the hell that awaited her at home. It was only a matter of time before Glimmer started tracking her phone; in fact, she was mildly surprised that it hadn’t happened by now, given Adora’s unpredictable behavior when intoxicated. One fateful evening freshman year, Adora made the fatal mistake of drinking <em>and </em>eating a brownie offered by a friendly stranger; as it turned out, a brownie was not always just a brownie, and Adora had been so stoned out of her mind that she ran all the way back to the dorms in the middle of the night without a word to anyone. Then there was that time Adora wandered off drunkenly into the redwood forest and only resurfaced several hours after sunrise, totally unaware that Glimmer had been searching for hours... </p><p class="p1">She resigned herself to her fate with a sigh. <em>Guess it’s time to get up. </em></p><p class="p1">After pulling on her muddy clothes from the previous night, Adora looked around for Catra’s dirty clothes hamper but found nothing. She neatly folded the tank top and shorts and deposited them on the futon—which, to her embarrassment, was also muddy. As she straightened, her eyes were drawn to her reflection in a small mirror above Catra’s desk.</p><p class="p1"><em>Whoa, I look like crap. </em>Her cheeks were flecked with dried saliva, and her loose hair was just… out of control. She attempted to clean up somewhat by scrubbing at her face and finger-combing some hair tangles out, but the change was negligible.</p><p class="p1">She warily eyed the door to the living room with a groan. <em>Okay. Time to… go out there. Time to see Catra, probably passed out on the couch. Easy peasy. I can do this. </em>Adora stood tall—trying and failing to ignore the dizziness—and marched to the door before immediately turning around and walking back to the desk, anxiously shaking her arms out as she bounced on the balls of her feet.</p><p class="p1"><em>Well, I don’t want to wake her up, that’s just rude. I’ll, uh… </em>She snapped her fingers as a mental lightbulb flickered on. <em>I’ll write her a thank-you note! Damn, I’m a genius.</em> </p><p class="p1">She opened the desk drawer and dug through more spent vape cartridges, staples, and other miscellaneous crap. Finding a pen was easy; unearthing so much as a single sticky note was a whole other matter.</p><p class="p1"><em>Does she not have a single piece of paper in this room? What the—oop, never mind. </em>She teased out a crumpled blank piece of paper stuck in the very back of the drawer, mentally scripting her note. <em>Thanks for saving my ass. Let’s get coffee? Ugh. Maybe that’s coming on too strong. </em></p><p class="p1">She moved to straighten out the crumpled paper against the desk’s surface, stopping cold as her fingers brushed against the smooth material of photo paper. A neat, circular hole that she immediately recognized as a cigarette burn poked through the wrinkled surface, and Adora distantly noted that Catra must have smoked cigarettes at some point in the past.</p><p class="p1">Adora flipped the photo slowly, hoping against all reason that her hunch was wrong though she knew in her heart exactly which photo it was. After all, she kept the same picture on the shelf above her bed.</p><p class="p1">Her stomach rolled as she took in the familiar image of Catra—exactly fifteen, Adora knew—standing in her green JROTC dress uniform, necktie undone, an arm slung casually around another uniformed figure. Instead of a face, there was the cigarette burn; not quite large enough to cover a pixelated poof of blonde hair.</p><p class="p1">Tears welled in Adora’s eyes as she traced the image with a trembling finger. That had been one of the happiest days of high school, despite Weaver’s increasing pressure on Adora at school and near-constant threatening of Catra at home. The photo was one of very, very few that existed of her—and Catra—as teens. </p><p class="p1">It had been a birthday present.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Hey! Can you take a photo of us?” </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Adora, come on,” Catra groaned, glancing longingly towards the stream of students exiting through the school gate before turning back to Adora with a pout. She held up a hand and began counting grievances on her fingers. “I fucking hate photos. It’s hot. This uniform is driving me nuts. Let’s just—”</em>
</p><p class="p1"><em>Adora swiveled, her most mischievous grin dialed to 100 as she shook her hair out of the bun she wore every week on uniform day. “It’s your birthday, so this nice guy—” she gestured at the random student she’d called over, “is going to take our picture, and you’re going to </em>like <em>it.”</em></p><p class="p1">
  <em>Catra rolled her eyes. Adora handed the dude her iPod Touch and dragged Catra closer—she (surprisingly) posed for once, smoothly pulling her necktie loose and slinging an arm over Adora’s shoulder.</em>
</p><p class="p1">A lump grew in Adora’s throat as she remembered the day after, when she had done the unthinkable by skipping rugby practice and going to FedEx to print the photo. It was terrible quality, but it was real—tangible proof of her and Catra that she could hold in her hands. Late that night, she’d kicked the underside of Catra’s bunk and presented the photo with a shit-eating grin. The birthday girl seemed nonplussed, but…</p><p class="p1">
  <em>But she stayed in my bed that night, which she hadn’t done in, like, a year. And she kept this in her binder. </em>
</p><p class="p1">As Adora stifled the quiet sobs that clawed their way from her chest, another hazy memory from the previous night came into focus.</p><p class="p1">They had talked, <em>really </em>talked, for the first time in years, which was still so staggering that Adora could hardly grasp it. There was also the shocking moment when, in an instant, Catra had come clean about Glimmer’s car. And while that incident was nowhere near being unpacked or forgiven, the fact that she had been <em>honest </em>was remarkable. Adora felt entitled to thinking that there was an opportunity to right past wrongs, to maybe—just maybe—start from a new perspective, without Weaver to pit them against each other. They could come back together without expectations of what their relationship should be.</p><p class="p1">But despite all that, when Adora asked if they were okay again last night, Catra had given her a non-answer before basically fleeing the room. Which was a very Catra way to politely say “no,” or maybe “fuck off.”</p><p class="p1"><em>I’m such an idiot, </em>Adora thought miserably, tracing the hole in the photo. <em>I can’t believe myself. I followed her outside, I’m the one who pressured her to talk. She didn’t even want to see me. She’s been done with me for a long time, and I should have just left her alone.</em></p><p class="p1">The thought was enough to evoke a full sob that she quickly smothered with a hand. Suddenly, the photo was too much to bear; she carefully tucked it back in the corner of the drawer and slid it closed without a sound.</p><p class="p1"><em>Time to go. </em>Adora roughly wiped the tears from her face, steadied her breathing, and finger-combed her hair one last time before inching open the door and stepping into the living room.</p><p class="p1">The apartment was fairly small, sparsely furnished, and (judging by the stained walls and ratty off-white carpet) probably hadn’t been given an overhaul by the management in a decade. There were scattered stacks of cardboard boxes that looked in the midst of being unpacked.</p><p class="p1">A framed picture above the small TV drew Adora’s eye: Catra (wearing those glasses that Adora was so, so curious about) crushed into a side hug by Scorpia, presumably in front of their community college. To her surprise, Adora recognized the school; she dimly remembered an unenthusiastic guest presenter in high school homeroom who showcased some of the more accessible CCs in Southern California. At the time, Catra had laughed off the idea of college—“<em>Weaver wants us to be military, remember?”—</em>but clearly, she had taken it more seriously than Adora realized. She wondered how Catra had finally gotten out from under Weaver's thumb. </p><p class="p1">Swallowing thickly, Adora turned her gaze to the <em>very </em>broken-in, mud-brown corduroy couch. It looked exceedingly lumpy and was barely long enough to fit three seated people, but Catra was one of those chosen few who could sleep nearly anywhere. Her small frame lay neatly tucked into a fetal position with plenty of room to spare.</p><p class="p1">There was a thin blanket on the floor that Catra had probably kicked off sometime in the night; she had a tendency to overheat, Adora knew. The loose t-shirt Catra wore had ridden up past her stomach and fully exposed a pair of fire-truck red boxer briefs.</p><p class="p1"><em>Weaver would have killed her for wearing those, </em>Adora mused, a host of bittersweet memories overtaking her thoughts. Weaver abhorred any deviation from the norm, and Catra was far from a “fit in with the crowd” kind of person. Adora, on the other hand, usually sucked it up; Weaver had forced her into an uncomfortably frilly dress for the yearly JROTC ball and matched her with some sweaty classmate as a date, while Catra straight up ditched. There was also sophomore year homecoming dance, when Catra had tried to scheme her way into wearing a cheap rental suit—</p><p class="p1">Adora suddenly realized she had been staring for <em>far too long </em>at the red boxer briefs and redirected her attention to Catra’s face.</p><p class="p1">Asleep, Catra always looked as close to peaceful as Adora had ever seen her. The piercing gaze of her unique eyes was hidden, no creases of the brow or snarky smirks, just… Catra, pleasantly snoozing in the morning light. Wild as her dark hair looked splayed out against the pillows, Catra was still a hundred times prettier while sleeping than Adora, who couldn’t even lay down for a five-minute nap without drooling all over the place.</p><p class="p1">With a start, Adora realized that her oldest friend was near enough to touch. Her hand twitched with the strikingly familiar urge to reach out and gently stroke through Catra’s hair—as she had so often done when they were kids—and bitter tears brimmed in Adora’s eyes all over again. It had been one of few comforts; Adora, acting as the protector, the healer, when Catra was torn to shreds by Weaver for small mistakes. Adora the savior, so intent on building a home with her arms and heart that Catra would be safe in, if only for moments at a time.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Me, the fucking idiot who thought I could fix three years of bullshit. </em>
</p><p class="p1">The creak of a cabinet opening and closing startled Adora, drawing her eyes to the kitchen where a very wide-eyed Scorpia stood in the midst of brewing coffee. They stared each other down for a heartbeat, still as statues. Scorpia opened her mouth slightly as if to speak but Adora rushed for the front door, throwing it open and running out in a flash.</p><p class="p1">Her shoulders sank as the door clicked shut behind her, the sound echoing like an end to something that had never really started. Adora finally let the tears fall freely; their wet heat was dampened by the chill morning air as she began the walk home.</p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Adora, enveloped in shimmering red waves of gossamer and gripping Catra by the wrists. The world flickered around them—smears of old, painful memories flashing by as Catra struggled and failed to shrink away from Adora’s riveted gaze.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Catra. How could you?</em>
</p><p class="p1">Catra woke with a start, heart battering her ribcage, saturated with aches in places she didn’t know could hurt. She blindly slapped at the coffee table for her glasses and phone, groaning as she checked the time. <em>Oof, it’s almost noon. Wait… why am I on the couch? </em></p><p class="p1">Her breath hitched as she dimly recalled the end of the night; dragging Adora here, settling her in the bedroom, awkwardly ignoring Adora’s attempt to make nice. <em>Ah, shit. She’s probably starving to death in there, waiting for me to get up. Miss Polite. </em></p><p class="p1">She clambered off the couch and held her arms out for balance as the living room tilted. After waiting a moment for a swell of nausea that never came, she sighed in relief. <em>Not too hungover. That’s good.</em> <em>Time to face the elephant in the room.</em></p><p class="p1">Talking was solidly at the bottom of Catra’s list of favorite hobbies, but Adora at least deserved some crumb of respect after last night. Catra had gone bitter and distant when Adora let herself be vulnerable; the old Catra would have jeered at the weakness, but presently she just felt... guilty, almost. It was an uncomfortable and irritating way to feel that she promptly did her best to push aside.</p><p class="p1">Catra walked unsteadily to her bedroom door and toed it open, preparing herself for the painfully familiar sight of Adora sleeping (sprawled out, mouth open and drooling, possibly in the midst of a sleep fistfight), but froze in place at the sight of the vacant futon.</p><p class="p1">“Morning, Wildcat,” Scorpia said behind her. Catra jumped and nearly lost her balance as she turned. Her roommate held out a cup of coffee that Catra took automatically.</p><p class="p1">“Um, Scorpia,” Catra said slowly, her eyes unfocused but body still tense. “Did, um…”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, she left in a rush this morning. Kinda just… ran out the door. Probably had somewhere to be, I guess.” Scorpia shifted her weight back and forth, concern shading her eyes. “Are you okay? You knocked out before we could talk last night. I tried to find you when the cops came, but—”</p><p class="p1"><em>Adora just… left? </em>Catra silently counted to ten, barely reigning in her temper. She pulled out her phone and checked for messages before angrily tossing it on the futon, remembering that Adora didn’t have her current number. Scorpia was saying something that Catra didn’t hear as she scoped her bedroom for a note or something—it wasn’t like Adora to just <em>leave—</em></p><p class="p1">Catra went still, eyes narrowing. <em>Except it is. It’s literally </em>just <em>like her to leave without saying anything. I know I was being a dick, but…</em></p><p class="p1">“Wildcat? Catra?”</p><p class="p1">Catra slowly turned to Scorpia with a blank stare, her grip on the coffee cup white-knuckled. “I’m going back to bed. Close the door.”</p><p class="p1">“Okay, but we’re talking later. I won’t take no for an answer, pal.” With that, Scorpia backed away and gently shut the door.</p><p class="p1">After waiting for Scorpia’s footsteps to fade, Catra pulled off her glasses and carefully set them and the coffee cup on her desk, barely restraining the impulse to throw both against the wall. She wanted to scream, or cry, or kill someone; maybe all three. Mostly, she wanted to understand why everything suddenly hurt <em>so goddamn much. </em></p><p class="p1">Adora left. Of course she did, though Catra was the sole reason Adora slept under a roof last night, rather than the gutter or worse.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>But I wanted her gone for so long. I was… happy with it. We can’t be friends again anyway. There’s just no way.</em>
</p><p class="p1">Catra clenched her jaw, hoping the pain would ground her.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>So why do I want to fucking die right now? </em>
</p><p class="p1">She sat down heavily on the futon, cradling her head in her hands. A few tears slipped from her eyes that she rubbed away with her palms, wrestling with the desire to punch the shit out of the futon, rip out her hair, trash her room… Anything to feel in control.</p><p class="p1"><em>Be honest with yourself, dude. </em>She sucked down a shaky breath. <em>You know why she bailed. </em></p><p class="p1">Adora probably remembered the thing about the fucking car, and Glimmer’s mom… Catra shuddered. She’d almost gotten someone <em>killed, </em>for fuck’s sake. It was only supposed to be a prank, one that Glimmer’s rich ass would have no problem paying to fix… and someone nearly died. Catra could barely begin to comprehend how she felt about that—it was almost too much to grasp.</p><p class="p1">Yet Adora—ever the hopeful idiot—had still held out a hand to Catra, offering to reach across the void. True to form, Catra slapped it away.</p><p class="p1">Of course Adora left. Not only was it totally in-character for her, Catra decided as she numbly laid down on the futon, her head spinning from the faint hint of Adora’s scent.</p><p class="p1">It was also entirely deserved.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ah yes. Pain. Hate to see it.</p><p>How'd you feel about this chapter? Feel free to leave a comment, and thanks to everyone who has subscribed/commented/left kudos so far!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. changing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Adora and Glimmer have a conversation; so do Scorpia and Catra.</p><p>Adora has a realization; so does Catra.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>technically TW for vomit - the line it's in will be prefaced with an asterisk.</p><p>many thanks to Pengibee and Blue_Magic (who have their own fics here on AO3 ;)) for their continuing help with this story.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Glimmer—pink hair laid up in cowlicks, dressed in her favorite purple pajamas—was asleep on the couch when Adora got home. Despite Adora’s best attempt at shutting the door <em>as quietly as possible</em>, Glimmer shot awake and shifted into rant mode before even fully opening her eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The lecture had gone on for something like five straight minutes, if Adora’s watch was correct (which it was, of course). <em>Adora, I was so worried. Adora, what the hell. Adora, Adora, Adora. </em>Adora hadn’t gotten a single word in before the hurricane came down full force. She </span>
  <span class="s1">wondered just how apocalyptic the reaction would be when Glimmer finally stopped to breathe and gave her the chance to say where she actually <em>was</em> last night.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After being shredded to pieces for a few more minutes, Adora was practically melted into the plush L-shaped couch. Glimmer’s tirade finally tapered off; arms akimbo, she stared down at the vacant-eyed blonde who currently wanted for nothing more than to brush her teeth and change out of last night's clothes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So? Where even were you last night?” Adora mumbled something, earning a groan from Glimmer. “Seriously. Where the fuck was this ‘sleepover’? Mermista’s place? Where?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I was with Catra,” Adora whispered. She threw an arm over her eyes and sank deeper into the couch, determined to fade from existence.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was a beautiful moment of total silence. “You wanna run that shit by me again?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“She helped me run from the cops, ooo-<em>kay</em>, and I was super drunk and didn’t remember where our apartment was so she took me to hers and <em>then-I-slept-over-and-now-I’m-here</em>,” Adora blurted at light speed, still hiding under her arm. “That’s it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In a daze, Glimmer plopped down next to Adora. “That’s it?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Adora, did she…you know, um…?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora peeked out from beneath her arm, warily eyeing her roommate who suddenly looked <em>quite </em>red. “Did she what?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Glimmer cleared her throat and gestured vaguely. “You know, uh. Did you two…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Did we wha-OH. </em>Adora shot upright, her face and neck ablaze. “<em>No! </em>What the hell?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, I dunno, you guys used to be so close, and you were both drunk—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No! She slept on the couch!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“—and there was so much <em>tension, </em>and that’s just the perfect recipe—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I literally can’t believe you right now, dude,” Adora croaked. She sank back into the couch, attempting to will herself into unconsciousness.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Glimmer put a hand to her forehead and sighed. “So that’s a no, then?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Glimmer, it’s <em>never, not ever </em>been like that between me and Catra—” Adora’s voice faltered as she dimly recalled the sight of Catra beneath her when she had pressed them both into the bush, hiding from the cops. Then, a vivid flash of Catra’s horrified face as Adora unthinkingly took off her shirt—</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Adora?” Glimmer waved a hand in front of her face. “You good?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora gulped and blinked hard, forcing the hazy memories away. “Plus, she’s not gay.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Glimmer raised an eyebrow as Adora hurriedly blathered on: “No, really. Trust me. Back in high school, I would always ask if she thought so-and-so was pretty, or whatever, and she was never interested. Actually, she said all the girls in school were gross, so…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Adora…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But you know what? I don’t even know why we’re talking about this, because…” Adora abruptly stood and began pacing around the room as she talked, simmering with anger. “You know what happened last night? I asked her if we were gonna be okay again, and she just… ignored me!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Adora.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And…and I can’t believe she fucked up your car in high school. I mean, I knew it made sense, but I just didn’t believe she had it in her! B-but I was wrong, and I’m so sorry for not believing you this whole time—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“<em>Adora!</em>”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“<em>What?</em>” Adora wailed, freezing in place as she noticed the tears streaming down her cheeks. Having Catra back for a split second only to feel that loss all over again was too much to carry— especially while hungover, starving, and desperately in need of a shower.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Everything Adora felt—her sweaty shirt sticking to her back, the harsh drumming of her heart, a blazing heat behind her eyes—became an oppressive force. She gasped for breath as the walls of the living room seemed to close in on her, murky blackness swirling at the edges of her sight—</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, it’s okay,” Glimmer soothed in a low voice, rising to meet Adora with a tight hug that the taller girl leaned into with all her weight, trembling uncontrollably. After a moment, Glimmer took Adora by the hand and led her back to the couch.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Adora. Listen to me, okay? Really listen.” The soothing, stable contact of their hands brought forward a few fresh whimpers from Adora. “After me and Bow lost you guys last night, we…talked a bit, and I thought a lot about everything. The way I acted about my mom and all of that, it wasn’t right. I shouldn’t have exploded.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Glimmer, what—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Glimmer held up a hand. “Just let me get this out, ‘kay? I was drunk, and seeing Catra out of nowhere like that had me <em>shook. </em>But… I know she didn’t do it on purpose. I always knew that, I guess, because it was <em>my </em>car, it was about <em>me,</em> but seeing the look on her face when I told her about what happened… she really had no idea, huh?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That was the truth; Adora vaguely remembered what had begun as a shouting match ending with Catra coming close to <em>apologizing</em>—or at least, taking responsibility—which was so out of character that she wasn’t sure it had actually happened. The raw, shell-shocked look on Catra’s face when Glimmer explosively detailed what happened to Angella had to be real…right? Adora was sure that flicker of something so close to <em>remorse</em> was genuine, but—</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">None of that changed the fact that Catra had callously rejected Adora’s attempt to close the distance between them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Adora, I'm still pissed at her. But if you really want to talk to Catra again, I <em>do</em> get it,” Glimmer went on. She gently squeezed Adora’s hand. “I’ve only heard so much of what you guys went through with Weaver. She must have been really hurt when you left, and… she blamed me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Catra isn’t totally wrong about that, </em>Adora thought, but knew better than to voice <em>that </em>particular opinion.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Me and Catra… we’re not cool. I don’t know if we ever will be, and I really would like an <em>actual apology</em> from her.” Glimmer took a deep breath, bracing herself. “But I trust <em>you, </em>Adora, so if you think that she’s worth it, I’ll be okay. As long as she’s changed and she’s willing to make an effort to move past it, I can too. For your sake.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora looked fondly at her friend, realizing just how much Glimmer had changed over the last few years. A slight tendency toward blind rage had matured into a sense of justice and pride, outright disregard for those who wronged her had given way to patience and understanding. The difference was something to see, and in some twisted way, Angella’s accident—and therefore, <em>Catra</em>—had been the spark. The accident had forced Glimmer to mature, take charge, and grapple with some serious shit for basically the first time in her otherwise privileged life.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>She’s changed so much since we met.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora’s blood turned to ice as a fully-formed realization erupted from somewhere deep in her subconscious.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>I’m such an idiot.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Adora? Did you hear what I said?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She slowly turned to Glimmer, eyes poring over the suddenly vacant look on Adora’s face.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s the thing, isn’t it,” Adora murmured, feeling a tiny, already-rotting piece of her soul fully wither away. Her eyes burned, but there were no tears left. “We’re all different people now, aren’t we? I haven’t been in Catra’s life for so long, and she hasn’t been in mine. I don’t think we really know each other anymore. We’ve…changed.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora abruptly rose from the couch, swallowing the chorus of aches and nausea that followed as she marched toward the front door. The need for a change of clothes was forgotten, and the gym had a shower, so…</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Adora,” Glimmer called gently after her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m… going to the gym,” Adora called back without turning, her tone cheerful despite the tremor in her voice. She hauled her always-packed gym bag over a shoulder and rested a shaking hand on the doorknob. “Thanks for the talk, Glimm. It really helped.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Glimmer called after her again, but Adora had already rushed outside.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">—</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Maybe I should clean,</em> Catra thought, viewing the small kingdom of her bedroom with disdain from where she sat on the (slightly muddy, thanks to Adora) futon. She’d spent the last few hours sleeping, having a beer, sleeping again, thinking, having two more beers, vaping, and so on, only leaving her room to wolf down some cup noodles or go to the bathroom. A bonus of day drinking was that the previous night’s hangover soon disappeared under a new haze of inebriation, though Catra would probably pay dearly for that tomorrow.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Scorpia was definitely worried. She usually went out during the day to explore or go to the farmer’s market—crap that Catra wasn’t particularly interested in—but instead Scorpia had been home all day unpacking the few boxes left, pointedly glancing at Catra the handful of times she’d slunk out of her room.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Speak of the devil, </em>Catra thought humorlessly at a sudden knock on her door. Scorpia slowly edged it open and peeked through the crack.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Catra?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra grunted, waving Scorpia in with a hand. She fished a room temperature beer out of the case and cracked it open.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Catra, can we talk?” Scorpia flinched slightly at Catra’s sharp glare but held her ground. <em>Ooh, finally growing a pair. Good for her.</em> “Please?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Taking the tense silence as a yes, Scorpia fully entered the room and seated herself beside Catra, who pointedly avoided eye contact by hiding behind a mass of her messy hair.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Entrapta’s out somewhere in town taking… ‘measurements,’ or something, so it’s just us,” Scorpia said. “So. What happened last night, Wildcat? You and that pink girl were about to tear each other apart.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra took a long pull from her beer, wincing at the sharp carbonation. “I dunno. I guess.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Catra…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Look.” With another lengthy chug, Catra finished the beer; she crushed the can and tossed it into a sizable pile of its brethren. “Remember what I told you, like, forever ago? About high school?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Scorpia nodded, eyes widening. “The blonde girl was Adora?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah. <em>Adora</em> and her rich friends. We haven’t talked in years, every time I see her back home we almost throw hands, and then I find out she’s been going to this school all along?” Catra sighed, already mulling over the idea of another drink. “Like, what are the fucking chances?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, yeah. That must have been a shocker,” Scorpia said. “So when you saw her, you kind of…flipped out?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra chuckled darkly and gave in to the impulse to grab another beer; it cracked open with a satisfying hiss as she struggled to get a hand on her feelings. How <em>did </em>it feel to see Adora, after all that time? To talk with her again? In a word easily grasped by her booze-addled mind: shitshow. In two words, shitshow central.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I just wanted to get a rise out of her, I guess. Remind her that I exist. But we ended up talking a little and it was…” <em>Unexpected. Familiar. Nice. Painful as hell. </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Scorpia hesitantly reached out to pat Catra’s knee, the touch of her large hand surprisingly gentle. “I’m sorry, Catra. That must have been hard.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra snorted sharply and sipped the fresh beer. “No shit, Sherlock. And then she just leaves this morning without saying shit? Mindfuck central, right there.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the fizzing of Catra’s beer as she sipped at it. Catra dimly noted the <em>serious </em>face journey Scorpia was embarking upon as the girl decided what to say next.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Catra,” Scorpia began after another moment of silence, enunciating carefully. “Do you remember the thing you said to me at the last movie night we had? Right before we got ready to move here?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Frowning, Catra crushed the now-empty can and tossed it on the pile. Scorpia had hosted many movie nights during their stint at community college; she seemed to have an endless stream of friends to invite and movies to watch, and Catra remembered next to none of it. She was pretty sure the last movie night was centered around some dumbass romance movie— the kind that made Catra nauseous—and that was about it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was a small tickle in the back of her mind, though—a vague recollection of the tumultuous few weeks before the end of their Associate's degrees when Catra’s drinking habit had become… a bit less like a habit and more like a lifestyle.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra managed to focus her glazed eyes on the pile of beer cans, suddenly disgusted. <em>I’m doing it again, aren’t I? This was supposed to be a fresh start, and I’m already hellbent on fucking it up for myself. </em>She ground her knuckles into her temples, groaning.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Catra?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, man, I don’t remember,” Catra muttered. She wrapped her arms around herself and squeezed, but felt no more grounded. “Care to remind me?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Scorpia hummed noncommittally—a common tactic of hers to delay saying what she actually <em>wanted</em> to say, Catra knew. <em>Ugh, this can’t be good. </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Finally, Scorpia spoke in a low voice, sounding almost apologetic. “You said, um. Well, you were really drunk by the end of the movie, and you said… that you didn’t get how girls always go after these boring dudes in the movies, and that men were just gross, and—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>And she asked if I was gay, </em>Catra suddenly recalled as the memory hit her like a truck. A stinging blend of anger and embarrassment surged through her gut. Scorpia, out and proud herself, had merely asked a friendly, innocuous question, totally unaware that Catra would fly off the handle in response. While Scorpia had already been obviously flirting with Catra for weeks to no avail, being directly <em>asked</em> a question like that was…something else.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“What the fuck did you say?” Catra seethed, the dim, rational part of her mind thankful that the other movie night guests had already left—though when she was this pissed </em>and <em>drunk, social graces would have flown out the window anyway.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“Catra, I—I don’t know, I’m sorry, it’s just—”</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“I’m </em>not <em>gay, that’s… I’m not like that.” That same tiny rational part of her mind, though growing smaller by the second, realized she should backtrack. “I don’t care if </em>you <em>are, or anything, but—not me, no. Not at all.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Scorpia’s crestfallen expression stoked a blaze of rage and a touch of self-loathing that rapidly spread through Catra’s chest like a tidal wave. No, she wasn’t gay; how many times did people need to ask that before they listened? She didn’t date, she didn’t like anyone. She never had and never would.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>So why did people always feel the need to dig?</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>It was like living with Weaver all over again, having to endure the pointed looks and prying questions that Catra did her best to avoid but could never escape—and, like everything fucking else, it was always about </em>Adora. <em>Catra, don’t look at </em>Adora<em> like that. Catra, don’t hold hands with </em>Adora<em>, you’re not children anymore. Catra, if I ever catch you sleeping in </em>Adora’s<em> bed again, I’ll beat you within an inch of your life.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>To her credit, Weaver had made good on that last one a few times before Catra had finally listened.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I remember,” Catra growled, interrupting Scorpia’s rambling recounting of the event. “I didn’t talk to you for a week after that.” <em>And since I was basically blacked out at the time, I didn’t even really remember why I was mad. I just rolled with it.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Scorpia nodded, leaning forward to capture Catra’s bloodshot eyes with her own. “I know you said you’re not…you know, but… are you sure that your thing with Adora isn’t…more?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra barked out a laugh. <em>What a fucking joke.</em> “Me and Adora? I want some of whatever you’re smokin’, dude, because it’s <em>never </em>been like that with <em>anyone, </em>let alone any girl, much less <em>Adora</em>—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The words shriveled in Catra’s throat as she remembered—just yesterday, though it already felt so far away—how Adora’s weight had felt settled on top of her, hiding in that goddamn bush. Or Adora and her stupid “old habits,” pulling off her shirt without even thinking about it, leaving Catra red-faced and crawling in her own skin.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">An uncomfortably warm tingle blossomed low in Catra’s stomach, unrelated to the booze; it threaded up through her ribs and settled deep within her chest, squeezing her lungs tight. Catra’s mind worked of its own accord to roll back the clock, digging for memories of the strange feeling. It was so eerily familiar—she faintly remembered feeling this way sometimes, years ago, but only around… Adora.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora when she smiled, when she did more pull-ups than the boys, when she brushed her hand against Catra’s knuckles because no one else was around to scold them. Adora when she tried to coax Catra into her bunk after lights out, unaware of Weaver’s threats—because Catra never told her. Adora when she took Catra’s mindless doodles and reverently placed them in her school binder, treating each scrap of paper like an art piece.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The trip down memory lane ended at the beginning. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>The two of them, soft with baby fat and barely able to pronounce each other’s names, sitting together in Adora’s bunk. A sharpie—illicitly copped from Weaver’s office—was clutched in Adora’s small hand. She uncapped it and carefully connected the emergent freckles scattered across Catra’s nose and cheeks, weaving some sort of little kid story about stars that Catra no longer remembered. It made her feel so tingly.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Weaver had thrown an apocalyptic shit fit over the markings the next day, but the memory was still so… sweet. So warm.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Numbly, Catra turned her mind’s eye to last night again. She’d had this <em>feeling </em>when Adora tackled her into a bush and knocked the breath from her lungs, and when Adora suddenly had her shirt off, turning to Catra with a bashful smile that indelibly etched itself into her psyche.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Each and every memory of the bright fire coursing through Catra’s chest had a name and a face; both belonged to Adora.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">*</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Oh my fucking God. No. </em>Catra surged to her feet and ran for the door, but the bathroom was too far; she collapsed into a trembling heap, heaving onto the carpet.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>catra be like: CRAAAWWLLIIINGG IIIIN MY SKIIIN</p><p>how you feeling? feel free to leave a comment! I reply to every single one, and I love hearing what you guys think about how this is playing out. the comments keep me going, so if you got something you wanna say, say it! demand more content and I will oblige!</p><p>or come find me on tumblr and say it there &gt;:D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. fifteen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which morning classes suck, but group projects are worse.</p><p>Or: Adora and Catra are both running from gay thoughts. They trip.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>as always, thanks to Pengibee and Blue_Magic for help with this work, and to all the folks who have been reading/kudos'ing/subscribing!</p><p>quick note: an "erg" is basically a gym machine that you use for rowing exercises.</p><p>now, oh lordt, here we go...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Adora found that there were indeed only <em>so</em> many times a person could go to the gym in one day.</p><p class="p1">Weights, check. Treadmill, check. Erg, check. Ice bath after workout, check. Meal prepping, eating, guzzling protein shake—always check. Even after all of that, there were still far too many hours in the day left to<em> think</em>: about her talk with Glimmer, Catra, the coming semester, crew practice, Catra, being tight on money because financial aid only stretched so far, maybe applying for a job at the gym, <em>Catra</em>…</p><p class="p1">Overall, Saturday and Sunday passed in a haze of weightlifting and dark thoughts with barely a word spoken to Bow or Glimmer—despite the two of them being at Glimmer and Adora’s apartment for nearly the entire weekend. Adora was sure they talked about her when she wasn’t around, but <em>that</em> was a concern presently housed in the deepest recesses of her mind… recesses she narrowly avoided having to explore by exercising until her body was on the verge of giving out.</p><p class="p1">Adora <em>especially</em> couldn’t fathom that Glimmer thought Catra wanted to…well. She nearly dropped a weight on her foot every time she accidentally brushed up against the memory of <em>that</em> conversation, but other than the occasional mental slip, Adora managed to keep the folder labeled “Catra” tucked away in a dark corner of her psyche long enough to slog through Monday morning crew practice—or so she’d thought.</p><p class="p1">She hadn’t only dropped her side of the boat as they carried it to the water, which was a perfectly human mistake to make (<em>if you weren’t paying attention</em>). Once on the water, she also made the perfectly human mistake (<em>if you were a rookie</em>) of losing her grip on the oar as she rowed, offsetting the entire boat’s rhythm and ruining their time score. Much muttered grumbling (no small amount of it from the ever-miffed Mermista) was heard, doing wonders for Adora’s mood.</p><p class="p1">It was only natural that Coach Huntara came down <em>hard</em> on her ass when Adora was finally off the boat and busily bandaging her soggy, torn-up hands, aching all over from her time on the water. Her performance was an inch short of <em>terrible</em> and she knew it, but that didn’t make the lecture any more digestible. Or less hurtful.</p><p class="p1">As Adora staggered away from the library bus stop on her way to class, the chewing-out from barely a half hour prior played over and over again in her head, each word digging into her brain.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Where was She-Ra today, Adora? Adora, the spring season will be here before you know it. Adora, this team rests on you. Adora, if you slack off, they slack off. Adora, Adora, Adora. </em>
</p><p class="p1">Adora sighed and checked her school schedule (set as her lock screen for the first week, as it was every semester). It was just her luck that her very first class—at 8am, no less—was in the most unreachable building on campus: the Clocktower. While the entirety of the University of Etheria campus was absurdly hilly, the Clocktower was the highest point of them all. It sat basically atop what felt like a near-vertical incline, and yes—there was a big frigging clock on the face of the structure.</p><p class="p1">Adora’s sore legs burned like hell until she finally reached the building’s entrance. On a clear day like this, the view of the town and its glittering coastline would normally take her breath away, but at this point she wanted for nothing more than to sit the hell down and make it through the day.</p><p class="p1">Already sweating despite the morning chill, Adora was then further accosted by the muggy indoor air, delightfully accented by the thick scent of body odor and unbrushed teeth; she tugged off her jacket and loosely knotted it around her waist in a vain effort to cool off. Other students awkwardly shoulder-checked her as they trudged miserably to their own classes, looking about as happy as she felt.</p><p class="p1">If Adora was being honest with herself, having an 8am class wouldn’t normally be an issue; what gave her trouble was <em>everything else </em>going on. But there was no time to unpack that thought as she nudged open the classroom door and took the nearest available seat near the front.</p><p class="p1">It was only 7:50; the small class hadn’t quite filled up yet. Adora harnessed what dregs of mental energy she had left and tried to remember what class it even <em>was.</em></p><p class="p1"><em>Oh, right. A philosophy general ed.</em> Adora facepalmed, the sharp slap of hand meeting forehead earning a few concerned looks from other early birds seated nearby.<em> Duh, it’s the one Bow’s dad is teaching. PHIL 304. Philosophy of, uh… shit. Get it together, man. </em></p><p class="p1">She spent the next few minutes staring into space as the small room slowly filled with students, each as empty-eyed as the next. Adora was normally very much so a morning person, but today she felt <em>off</em>: Tired, foggy, and—try as she might to not consciously acknowledge it—sad.</p><p class="p1"><em>Okay, dude, there’s no point in being sad about Catra. It’s over. You probably won’t see her again.</em> Unless she had some of the same classes. <em>No way. Otherwise she would have freaked when I told her my major. Also, wow, I didn’t even ask what </em>her<em> major is. Smooth.</em></p><p class="p1">Adora’s rampaging thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of the professor—George, Bow’s dad with the impossibly coiffed hair and mustache even at 8am. He handed a stack of syllabi to a student and gestured for them to be passed out before turning to the whiteboard.</p><p class="p1">In an elegant hand, he scribbled some class details. <em>PHIL 304: Philosophy of Love and Relationships, MWF, 8am.</em></p><p class="p1">Adora gawked at the whiteboard as she took a syllabus and passed on the stack, bemoaning the <em>clearly</em> ingenious—at the time—decision to take this class. Months ago, having one of Bow’s dads as a professor seemed like it would be a fun way to wrap up some general ed units; she couldn’t remember even taking the time to look up what PHIL 304 <em>was</em> before happily enrolling. She'd even tried to drag Glimmer into taking it with her for kicks. That went about as well as expected, seeing as Glimmer could barely function before 11am.</p><p class="p1">By 8:02 the class was probably as full as it was going to get. She hunched over in her seat with a sigh, bracing herself for a titillating half hour spent reading over the syllabus.</p><p class="p1">“Hi everyone,” George began, viewing everyone with a bright smile. “Welcome to—oh hello, please come in and grab a syllabus. I think there’s a few still going around.”</p><p class="p1">A figure in a ragged plaid shirt and ripped jeans slunk into the room, taking a seat near the back; normally Adora wouldn’t have given a late student a second glance, but a subconscious impulse magnetically drew her eye.</p><p class="p1">Adora’s breath caught in her throat, raw panic thrumming deep in her chest.</p><p class="p1"><em>Are you </em>kidding <em>me?</em></p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1">Attending an 8am class while nursing a two-day hangover was an experience Catra thought she’d left behind in community college. Clearly, her past self had been maybe more than a little optimistic.</p><p class="p1">To add insult to injury, the stuffy, thick air of the room dialed the throbbing in her temples to 100, merrily stomping her thoughts into a mush of grumpiness and nausea.</p><p class="p1"><em>I’m really starting to regret this philosophy minor,</em> Catra grumbled internally as the (very familiar, somehow) professor began reading over the thick syllabus. The minor had originally started as a sort of joke with herself—never having been the kind of person to wrestle with the deeper nature of life, at least publicly—but the few classes she took in community college were actually sort of<em> interesting</em>, and she stuck with it.</p><p class="p1">Well, classes like <em>Logic</em> or <em>Moral Controversies</em> were cool; <em>Philosophy of Love and Relationships</em> on the other hand sounded like a cringey pain in the ass, but upper div units were upper div units. It was <em>also</em> kind of a pain in the ass to cram philosophy courses in alongside her organic chem requirements, but she hoped the minor would “diversify” her when it came to grad school applications, or job searching, or…whatever.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Hmm. I still have no idea what I want to do after undergrad. That’s super comforting.</em>
</p><p class="p1">Twenty minutes flowed by like molasses while the professor droned on about grades, attendance, blah blah blah. Catra was ten seconds from dozing in her seat when an uncomfortable tickle in the center of her forehead—as if someone were staring right at her—roused her slightly.</p><p class="p1">Donning her best glare, Catra homed in on the source of the sensation and immediately met a familiar pair of steel-blue eyes in the front row.</p><p class="p1">The professor’s voice faded under a thunderous rush of white noise as the air grew thin, crackling with electricity. Catra took in Adora’s absolutely <em>horrified</em> expression without moving a muscle. </p><p class="p1">After a timeless moment, Catra exhaled slowly through her nose and counted to five.</p><p class="p1"><em>Are you fucking </em>kidding<em> me?</em></p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1">Adora snapped her head back to the front of the classroom, blushing furiously. <em>Fuck. Fuck. It’s fine. No it’s not. Yes, it’s fine. Mm, nope. I just won’t look at her the rest of the semester and we’ll be good.</em></p><p class="p1">She groaned under her breath. <em>Not that she’d want to talk to me anyway.</em></p><p class="p1">“All right, before I let you all go early today,” George said, clasping his hands together, “I’m going to assign each of you a partner for the project. Remember, I’m using this in place of a final exam, so it’s worth a considerable amount of your grade.”</p><p class="p1">Adora frantically wracked her brains, trying to remember when he’d mentioned a project. Clearly, she had been so absorbed in her thoughts—and then riveted on Catra, who always had the <em>worst goddamn </em>timing—that the entirety of the syllabus was basically lost to her.</p><p class="p1">George went on as Adora flipped hurriedly through the pages, looking for the assignment. “There’s thirty of you, I think, so I’m going to have you count off to fifteen, then start back at one, and end at fifteen again. People with the same number will be partners.”</p><p class="p1">Students began counting off, Adora mentally keeping track as she continued to search the syllabus. She finally found the project outline and skimmed it with a deep frown. <em>A research project that shows how the class material connects to the relationships and love in your lives, such as family, blah blah… Family? How am I even going to do this? I don’t have any “primary sources” on my family, I’m an orphan!</em></p><p class="p1">The person to her right cleared their throat; Adora’s head whipped up, eyes wide.</p><p class="p1">“Uh, fifteen,” she called out, immediately withdrawing back to her thoughts as the student on her left restarted the count.</p><p class="p1"><em>What am I gonna do, call Weaver? No way. It’s been barely two years since she finally stopped trying to reach me. I’m not about to invite that crap back into my life.</em> She took a shaky breath, reminding herself that she should maybe be paying attention to whoever called the same number. She craned her head to the back of the class where the students were nearly finished counting, looking further down the line for her future partner.</p><p class="p1">Adora locked eyes with Catra the moment she muttered “fifteen.”</p><p class="p1">Before Adora could even attempt to reboot normal thought, George dismissed the class. Most began to pack up and filter out of the room, while a handful of students went to meet their partners and exchange contact info. Meanwhile, both she and Catra seemed glued to their seats, gazes ensnared.</p><p class="p1"><em>Snap out of it.</em> Adora stood abruptly and staggered her way to George as he packed up his little messenger bag; a sudden staccato riot of footsteps behind her signaled Catra’s approach, no doubt equally intent on escaping the situation.</p><p class="p1">George greeted Adora with a wide smile. “Adora! Good to see you again. Bow tells me you’re the reason people are so excited for the spring crew season, and we know my boy isn’t one to bluster. Good work.”</p><p class="p1">Adora heard Catra mutter a low “oh” beside her, probably realizing the identity of their professor for the first time. Adora couldn’t help but vividly imagine Catra rolling her eyes at George’s praise, though she was too frozen to turn around and seek confirmation. Instead, Adora kept her focus carefully locked onto George’s cheerful face.</p><p class="p1">He gestured to Catra with a hand. “And I assume this is your partner?”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, uh, my partner?” Adora spluttered. <em>Oh, duh, the frigging project. Jesus.</em> “Oh. Right! George, this is—”</p><p class="p1">“Catra,” Catra cut in, suddenly right beside Adora and extending a hand which George shook firmly. Adora took in Catra’s outfit; ratty washed-out jeans, a loose red and black plaid shirt, a worn canvas knapsack, and the ever-present high-top Vans. Definitely not what most people would call “collegiate,” but Adora firmly believed the most charming part of Catra was her personality—when and if she chose to flex it. So, not that often, but…</p><p class="p1"><em>Focus, damn it. </em>“George, uh, see… I don’t know if we can do the project. I know Catra from—” <em>literally my whole life, until she decided to hate me, </em>“—before college, um, basically we grew up together, so…and Bow probably told you that I grew up in—”</p><p class="p1">“We’re orphaned,” Catra interjected bluntly. She turned to Adora as if expecting a follow-up, eyes eerily calm behind her glasses, though Adora noted a thin sheen of sweat coating her forehead that trapped some of Catra’s baby hairs. </p><p class="p1">“Right, so, this whole family project thing is…not doable?” Adora croaked, attempting a smile that came out more like a grimace.</p><p class="p1">“Oh, no, the project is more about whatever kinds of love you<em> have</em> had,” George replied, shaking his head and slinging the messenger bag over his shoulder. “Blood family is just an example. And since you two already know each other, I’m sure your project will be all the more interesting! Now you’ll have to excuse me; I have a meeting with the Dean. See you guys Wednesday!”</p><p class="p1">With that, George skipped out of the room, completely unaware of the devastation left in his wake.</p><p class="p1">Catra turned to Adora without looking at her, fists white-knuckled at her sides, face pale. Her lips slowly thinned into a line.</p><p class="p1">Adora felt <em>very</em> sweaty.</p><p class="p1">“I guess we should exchange numbers,” she blurted. She tore off a tiny piece of the syllabus, awkwardly reached around to her backpack for a pen, and scribbled her number down, hands shaking more and more by the second. She held the paper out to Catra, barely breathing.</p><p class="p1">Catra’s eyes slowly slid up to rest on the outstretched piece of paper. Adora watched her slender hand rise in slow motion to take it, unable to restrain a quiet gasp as their fingertips gently brushed for the briefest of moments. Catra looked up sharply and tore her hand away, shoving the scrap of paper into her breast pocket.</p><p class="p1">“Welp, you can just text me your number, or something,” Adora babbled, frantically backing away toward the door. Catra’s face abruptly shifted, brow creasing as she roughly chewed on her lip.</p><p class="p1">“Adora, wait. I…” Catra murmured, an arm coming up to wrap tightly around her torso. She paused, shivering slightly, before standing tall and looking Adora dead in the eyes. A hollow look swept away the frown as if it had never existed. “Yeah. I’ll text you.”</p><p class="p1">She turned on her heels and strode away, leaving Adora alone in the empty room, heart pounding.</p><p class="p1"><em>What was </em>that<em>?</em></p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1">In the hallway, Catra elbowed her way through the throng of students to the nearest exit. She burst outside and gulped down the crisp air, willfully avoiding eye contact with concerned passers-by.</p><p class="p1">She stumbled to the nearest bench and sat heavily, panting.<em> Of course Adora is taking the one non-major course I have. Of course I get partnered with her</em> immediately<em>. Because the universe fucking hates me. Because I can’t have nice things.</em></p><p class="p1">The weight of the canvas knapsack against her thigh irked her suddenly; she pulled her phone from it and shoved the bag to the far side of the bench.</p><p class="p1">The sallow eyes, pale cheeks, and bared teeth reflected in her phone screen spoke volumes. She looked far from the perfect picture of stability, and that only pissed her off more. Not only had she run into Adora completely at random; she also looked like<em> total shit</em> while doing so.</p><p class="p1">A text from Scorpia lit up the screen and Catra swiped it away quickly, doggedly intent on limiting the amount of shit she had to deal with at present.</p><p class="p1"><em>Stupid fucking philosophy minor. I should just drop the class.</em> Catra tossed her phone onto the knapsack and leaned back with a groan, taking in the cloudless sky. <em>But I can’t do that. I might have a conflict with my classes next semester—or next year—and then I’ll be fucked for graduation. </em></p><p class="p1">Catra admitted that what little she remembered from the last couple of days was <em>shitty</em>. After ridding the apartment’s carpet of her...mishap…while brushing off Scorpia’s attempts to help, she had wasted the entire weekend basically locked in her room, drinking and wrestling with her <em>realization</em>. The realization that she was maybe, kinda sorta, into women.</p><p class="p1">Well. Into a specific woman.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Okay, chill. Once. When I was a fucking kid. It doesn’t mean anything, and it’s not like I feel that way about… her, now. </em>
</p><p class="p1">Catra’s heart stuttered painfully in her chest. She grit her teeth and fought the urge to scream.</p><p class="p1"><em>I do</em> not<em> fucking feel that way. Even if I did, it would never happen. It doesn’t mean shit.</em></p><p class="p1">Still, maybe it <em>did</em> mean shit, seeing as so many other pieces of Catra’s life were now cast in a different light: the brusque reaction to Scorpia’s advances so long ago despite the fact that, in hindsight, some small part of her considered the idea—and what about the poignant thrill from seeing Adora at the party last Friday? How about the intense (and possibly forced, Catra realized now) disinterest she had maintained with dating for <em>years</em>?</p><p class="p1">Had all the bullshit been because she was too stubborn to realize the truth about herself? Too scared?</p><p class="p1">Or maybe there was another reason. Maybe it was because Weaver had crushed every minuscule display of affection that Catra put out towards anyone—especially Adora—or the woman’s obsession with rigid conformity. All the times Weaver wrested away Catra’s power of self-expression came flooding back; <em>she</em> had forced Catra to don the acrylic nails that scarred Adora’s face during that fateful party junior year, and there were the dozens of times Weaver forced Catra into a dress for formal events like the stupid-ass JROTC balls…</p><p class="p1"><em>I can’t believe I needed Scorpia basically waving a “hey, you’re gay!” sign in front of my face to figure it out. I’ve never liked men, I fucking wear boxer briefs, and I was basically infatuated with Adora. What am I, stupid? </em>She nearly laughed at the irony of having called Adora an idiot for so many years, when she'd been fooling herself all along.</p><p class="p1">Then again, how could Catra have ever realized that she was <em>gay</em> in an environment that was the antithesis of encouraging and open-minded? Even outside of Weaver, there were few friends to be found while growing up besides Adora, and that had turned out <em>so well</em>. She’d had no freedom to discover crap like that about herself, and there hadn't exactly been much time to think about it during the chaotic years that came after breaking away from Weaver.</p><p class="p1">If only Weaver could see her now. Catra chuckled mirthlessly to herself, scarcely able to imagine the cutting remarks the old woman would have lined up and ready to go. Catra had clearly been clueless that she was…gay, or<em> whatever</em>, but Weaver’s dogged attempts to crush whatever she saw in Catra rang so clearly now. It was <em>so obvious</em> that Catra hated herself for never seeing the truth.</p><p class="p1">Weaver knew all along.</p><p class="p1"><em>The old hag probably pulled all that shit so Adora wouldn’t be </em>distracted<em>,</em> Catra mused. The thought tore open a thousand old, stinging wounds, and left her raw.</p><p class="p1">Once Catra finally summoned the will to leave the bench, the rest of the day passed in a blur of chem lab orientations, syllabus reading, and stuffing said syllabi along with other miscellaneous papers into her knapsack. She’d barely listened to a word said the entire day, seeing as she couldn’t stop <em>thinking</em> about being partnered with Adora for the philosophy project, or the unresolved conversation with Scorpia, or—</p><p class="p1">Catra zoned back into reality and found herself on her own doorstep with little idea how long she'd been walking. After a deep, bracing breath, she unlocked the door and edged it open, searching for a sign that either of her roommates were home. No pounding footsteps to signal Scorpia’s customary (loud) welcome, no mysterious—and vaguely concerning—sounds coming from Entrapta’s room…</p><p class="p1">The coast was clear. Once inside, Catra dumped her knapsack on the couch and collapsed on the carpet, gazing numbly at the ceiling.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>I don’t feel that way about Adora anymore. Seeing her again after so long just…reminded me of it, that’s all. Just childish bullshit. I’ll be professional, we’ll do the project, and that’ll be the end of it. It’s for the best.</em>
</p><p class="p1">Yet an infinitely small—and hated—part of Catra had to admit that she <em>missed</em> Adora, and an even more disgusting part of her screamed that she <em>always had</em>. There was a tiny blossom of naked <em>want</em> hidden beneath the bitterness that threatened to drive her insane if she tended to it, so she committed to burying it instead. Somehow.</p><p class="p1">Looking back, she realized that she’d always tried to bury that desire. Not very well, seeing as simply brushing fingertips with Adora that morning felt like a donkey kick to the chest—</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Ugh.</em>
</p><p class="p1">After Catra forced her thoughts toward <em>literally anything else</em>, she remembered that there was still an unread text from Scorpia that needed answering. She hauled herself onto the couch and pulled her phone from the knapsack, lips pursed. Scorpia had apparently sent <em>severa</em>l texts; Catra scrolled up to the first and rolled her eyes.</p><p class="p1"><b><em>Scorpy:</em></b> <em>How’s the first day of school, buddy?</em></p><p class="p1"><b><em>Scorpy:</em></b> <em>Oh wait you’re probably in a lecture right now. Oops!</em></p><p class="p1">There were several more texts along that same vein, and Catra basically gave up on reading them right as a much later message caught her eye.<b></b></p><p class="p1"><b> <em>Scorpy:</em> </b> <em>How do you feel about clubs?</em></p><p class="p1"><em>What, like, a bar? </em>Puzzled, Catra was typing a reply when the front door burst open so forcefully she felt her soul leave her body.</p><p class="p1">“Fuck, Scorpia,” Catra snapped, heart pounding. She glared at her roommate, currently laden down with at least three grocery bags in each hand. “I nearly fucking pissed myself.”</p><p class="p1">“Sorry!” Scorpia chirped back as she ambled into the kitchen and set the bags down. She came around to the couch, cheerfully scrutinizing Catra’s sprawled state in an unspoken request.</p><p class="p1">Catra rolled her eyes and scooted over, making room for Scorpia to sit. The balance of the couch shifted considerably under the added weight and raised Catra upwards by half a foot. They sat in silence for a while, Catra pretending to look through her phone as Scorpia hummed and stole quick glances at her. Catra’s curiosity eventually won out.</p><p class="p1">“So…what’s with the club thing this morning?” Catra asked, letting the phone drop to her lap as she eyed her roommate with suspicion.</p><p class="p1">Scorpia chewed her lip. “Well, uh, after our…talk, I kinda had an idea. And it’s cool if you’re not interested, but y’know, I was trying to think of something to cheer you up—”</p><p class="p1">“Scorpia,” Catra cut in, tone carefully devoid of emotion. The mention of <em>the talk</em> had already set alarms ringing. “Cut to the chase.”</p><p class="p1">“See, I was checking out the, uh, um. The GSA.” Scorpia nodded as if to reassure herself. “Right. I was gonna start going to the GSA, like I did at our old school, and I though you could…maybe come with me?” She turned to Catra, eyes wide.</p><p class="p1">Catra frowned. “What the fuck is a GSA?”</p><p class="p1">Scorpia gawked before clumsily covering her surprise with a smile. “Uh…I’m not sure what it stands for at this school, but it’s usually like a Gay-Straight Alliance, or the Gender-Sexuality Alliance—”</p><p class="p1">“So, a gay club?”</p><p class="p1">Scorpia blew out her cheeks. “Sort of, but…well, maybe you could see for yourself! I thought it might be fun for you to meet other…people.”</p><p class="p1"><em>Other people like me. Gay people. Because I’m gay. Yeah, two days was definitely not enough time to get used to </em>that.</p><p class="p1">It all felt like too much, too soon. Finally realizing this amorphous <em>thing</em> about herself was a hell of a hurdle, but actually attempting to embrace it—to engage with it? That sounded like a lot of work. She could only imagine the prying questions—<em>why’d it take you so long to realize, have you ever dated, what’s your type</em>—that people would shoot her way, and the idea of baring herself to a room full of strangers like that was frankly <em>repulsive.</em></p><p class="p1">Catra sighed, fiddling with a lock of hair at her temple that she swore was graying further with each passing day. At this rate, there’d be little brown left by the end of undergrad. “I dunno, Scorpia—”</p><p class="p1">“I heard there’s free food at every meeting.”</p><p class="p1"><em>Goddamnit, she knows me too well. </em>The dollar amounts for the textbooks and chemistry gear she had yet to buy flashed before her eyes, taunting her. The next month or so promised financial ruin from every direction; pretty much everything was more expensive here compared to where she and Scorpia lived during community college, including rent. They’d settled on the cheapest (and probably shittiest) apartment they could find and were still paying several hundred dollars more than they used to—<em>each.</em></p><p class="p1">The temptation of free food aside, Catra wondered if maybe it <em>would</em> be good to meet people who were in the same boat. Maybe she could take a shot at dating or hooking up, just to see what all the fuss was about, even though the very thought set her stomach churning.</p><p class="p1">“Just…let me think about it, okay?” Catra murmured, drawing a quick nod from Scorpia.</p><p class="p1">Before Scorpia could say anything else, Catra rose from the couch, grabbed her knapsack, and went to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her as she slipped off her glasses and tossed them onto the desk. She dumped the bag on the floor and sprawled out on the futon, staring at the ceiling as if the blurry popcorn texture held the miracle solution to life’s problems. </p><p class="p1">Maybe there would be a nice girl at the GSA. She’d be a little taller than Catra, athletic, with a goofy sense of humor that Catra could roll her eyes at publicly and adore in private. Blonde, or something—</p><p class="p1">
  <em>For fuck’s sake, stop it. Goddamn simp.</em>
</p><p class="p1">Catra’s hand drifted to her shirt pocket and gently drew out the scrap of paper with Adora’s number. She stared at the familiar neat handwriting for several minutes, thinking hard. To text or not to text? The project was due at the end of the semester; it wasn’t like Catra had to text Adora <em>immediately</em>. She needed space, a vape break, and maybe a few beers.</p><p class="p1">In fact, they probably both needed time apart after whatever the<em> fuck</em> had gone down over the weekend. Catra peacing out at the slightest invitation to be vulnerable, and Adora bailing without a word? In Catra’s mind, they <em>both </em>were back on their bullshit.</p><p class="p1">Catra stuffed the paper back in her pocket, mulling over the past and the present. Anything but the future.</p><p class="p2"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>How'd you feel? Leave a comment if you feel so inclined; comments clue me in to what's hitting you guys the hardest, and they encourage me to write more (and quickly)! </p><p>Additionally, this is the last of the slow, establishing chapters. from here on, shit is going to ~accelerate~</p><p>In fact, there might be a little bit of a time skip...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. cut to the feeling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dance, dance, dance.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>holy FUCK this took forever; sorry for being a day or two later than normal. clearly this is a chonky-ass chapter (that's my excuse), but i didn't want to split it for...reasons.</p><p>the chapter title is taken from Cut to the Feeling by carly rae jepsen; yes, this is somewhat a CRJ AU (somehow).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p2">
  <em>Catra peeked over the edge of her bunk, looking down at Adora through her long lashes. It was long past lights out, but Adora’s eyes had adjusted; she could clearly see the outline of her friend’s face in the darkness.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>“Psst. Adora.”</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>“Wassup?” Adora slurred, voice thick and drowsy. It was almost as if Catra always timed her interruptions right on the cusp of Adora drifting off, which would have irritated most people, but…it was Catra. Standard rules didn’t apply, and your mileage may vary.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>“Can I come down?” Catra whispered back. Without a word, Adora sat up and held out her arms, knowing that Catra’s above-average night vision would catch the familiar movement. In a flash, Catra swung monkey-bars style off the side of her bunk squarely into Adora’s chest, knocking the wind from her.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>“Catra, you’re gonna wake everyone up!” Adora wheezed through her gasps for air. Catra merely giggled, sliding off Adora and slipping under the covers. Both girls shifted to face each other, as they had done a million times before.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Up close like this, Adora could faintly make out every familiar curve of Catra’s face, though those soft lines were quickly turning into angles. There was little baby fat left for Adora to pinch when they roughhoused, which made her sad—though she was also excited to see how they both were changing. For one thing, Adora remained the taller of the two much to Catra’s constant chagrin.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>As always, the freckles smattered across Catra’s nose and cheeks reminded Adora of constellations. She faintly remembered tracing them with a marker when they were little kids, though Weaver later had a meltdown for the history books; they both knew better now not to publicly overstep those boundaries. There was still plenty they got away with when Weaver’s sharp eyes weren’t glued to them, though.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Such as sleeping together like this.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>“I’m gonna be thirteen tomorrow,” Catra murmured, though Adora didn’t need to be told. She loved everything about Catra’s birthday. The summer heat faded by late October, making Weaver’s exercises and chores a lot more bearable, and the occasion was also the perfect excuse to lavish attention on Catra without her being able to complain (much).Figuring out ways to get a gift without Weaver knowing was both the best and scariest part.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>“Welcome to the club,” Adora replied, a little smug. “Now you’ll be a real grownup like me.”</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Catra shoved her, stifling a laugh. “I’m older than you on the inside, dummy.”</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>They froze at the sound of footsteps elsewhere in the house, but the door to the bedroom didn’t budge. Adora listened closely, making sure she could pick out the deep breathing of the other kids in their bunks; no one else was awake. They were safe.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Adora turned her focus back to Catra’s lopsided smirk. A serious question occurred to her that she couldn’t help but ask, though she knew Catra wouldn’t like it. </em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>“Catra…how’s your wrist?”</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Catra went stiff. She shifted away slightly. “Fine.”</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Adora sighed; she doubted that. Yesterday, Weaver had caught Catra scaling the outer wall of the house, and—after finally wrangling the small girl—bent her wrist so far back that Adora was sure it would snap. She’d been too shocked to intervene until the last moment, pleading and begging for Weaver to finally let go, which she did, though not before knocking Catra to the ground with a slap.</em>
</p><p class="p2"><em>The worst part was that Adora had dared Catra to climb the house in the first place, knowing that her wily friend liked high places and a touch of danger. Plus, she </em>definitely <em>couldn’t say no to a dare. It wasn’t the first time Adora had inadvertently gotten Catra into trouble with her big mouth and dumb ideas, and since Adora never seemed to learn her lesson, it probably wouldn’t be the last.</em></p><p class="p2">
  <em>“Catra…lemme see it,” Adora pleaded, tentatively reaching out a hand.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>After a moment, Catra reluctantly put her arm out. Adora gently took hold of it, turning over the thin, soft wrist and probing for swelling with the pads of her fingers. The flesh felt a little hot and puffy, but that was all.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Maybe it was the sleepiness, the worry, or the relief, but without a second thought Adora brought Catra’s wrist up and gently pressed it to her lips. She froze, expecting Catra to tear her hand away and cuss her out, but the other girl simply stared right into her eyes. </em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Without looking away, Catra slowly pulled her arm from Adora’s grasp and scooted closer until their legs touched, faces held only a few inches apart. </em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Adora’s chest thumped like thunder; she wondered if Catra could hear it. They laid there for an eternal moment, just looking at each other.<br/></em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>The strange spell broke when Catra tore her eyes away to stare at some point over Adora’s shoulder, leaving her with a murky sensation of loss. In a low voice, Catra asked, “What do you think we’ll be like when we’re older?”</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Adora shrugged, her attention still on the curious feeling twirling through her ribs. “I dunno. Fighting in the Army somewhere, I guess. Probably a desert?”</em>
</p><p class="p2"><em>Catra snorted. That snide streak was growing stronger by the day, and Adora worried that Catra would catch a serious beating from Weaver if she wasn’t careful. “I mean what’ll we </em>do? <em>What’ll we be </em>like<em>, dummy? Fun? Boring?” She paused, then reached up to lightly press the tip of her index finger squarely between Adora’s eyes. “Y’know…married? Ugly? I mean </em>you’ll <em>be ugly for sure, but—”</em></p><p class="p2">
  <em>Adora sputtered, lightly slapping away Catra’s hand as the other girl cackled under her breath. “You’re so rude. I’m gonna be shredded. It’s gonna be kickass.”</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>“Suuuure,” Catra mocked. “As for me, I’m gonna be taller than you—”</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>“Now you’re just a liar—”</em>
</p><p class="p2"><em>“—</em>and<em> I’m gonna climb every tall thing in sight. And I’m gonna laugh in Weaver’s face someday. I’m gonna…flip her the bird.” She finished with a self-satisfied hum and tucked her hands between her head and the thin pillow, lips curved in an indignant pout.</em></p><p class="p2"><em>Adora’s chest tightened, well aware that Catra was trying to cover up how she </em>really <em>felt about what Weaver did yesterday—what Weaver did on so many days. Adora often wasn’t even there, off studying or at practice, but she heard whispers from the other kids. Even when Adora </em>was<em> a witness, there were few ways to stop Weaver after she got started.</em></p><p class="p2">
  <em>Incapable of finding words, Adora instead inched closer to Catra, tenderly bringing their foreheads together. She carefully draped an arm around the smaller girl’s waist and clutched her tightly, breathing in the delicate mix of scents entirely exclusive to her oldest friend. </em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Conditioner, citrus, and a dash of cloves.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Adora smiled, taking in Catra’s beautiful, unique gaze one more time before she closed her own eyes. If she hadn’t been so sleepy, she might have wondered why Catra’s eyes were wide open, full of intent, but questioning—as if looking for something that she herself had no name for. </em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>“Adora? Do you still promise?” Catra whispered suddenly, almost too low to hear. </em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>The weight of an entire lifetime together hung in the air between them. </em>
  <em>Adora heard the million questions they’d infused into that word over the years—do you promise we’ll stay together? Do you promise to never leave me? Do you promise that you’ll always be here, right where I need you? Do you promise that nothing bad will happen, as long as we’re together?</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>“I promise.”</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>—</em>
</p><p class="p2">“Yo, Adora! Come on, man!”</p><p class="p2">Adora’s head snapped in the direction of Bow’s voice right as her foot caught on a tree root, sending her flying into the dirt with a low <em>thwump </em>that reverberated through her entire body.</p><p class="p2">“Ah, shit.” Bow’s footsteps drew nearer until he crouched beside Adora, helping her up and dusting off her shirt while trying not to laugh. “Damn, bro, you good?”</p><p class="p2">Grumbling obscenities, Adora brushed some loose hair from her face and spat out a leaf. “Yeah, just <em>peachy.” </em>She flexed her arms a little, wincing. “That shit <em>hurted.</em>”</p><p class="p2">“Yeah, well, we can rest in a sec. We’re almost there.”</p><p class="p2">That was true enough; Adora could make out their destination through a break in the trees as they resumed their pace. Bow chattered on about the cool plants dotting their path as she listened silently. They’d already walked a few miles; Glimmer would have been screaming by now but Bow and Adora were used to hikes like this. Someday they <em>had </em>to try a full-on, week-long backpacking trip—school and work be damned.</p><p class="p2">October looked good on this part of the county. Though the redwoods remained green year-round, patches of red and yellow from other trees dotted the landscape if you looked hard enough. Adora couldn’t help but gawk at the massive trunks around them, some even as thick as a house. A gentle sea breeze blew in from the coast that mixed the heady forest air with a touch of salt.</p><p class="p2">“So, how’s the job?” Bow asked, wrenching Adora from her silent contemplation. She blew a dirty, loose strand of hair from her face, gathering her thoughts.</p><p class="p2">“It’s good, I guess. I can work out while I’m on shift, which is cool.”</p><p class="p2">“And classes?” Bow asked, feigning an airy, innocent tone. There was really only <em>one</em> he wanted to know about, because Adora knew that <em>he </em>knew that Catra was in that stupid philosophy class. Initially, Bow felt responsible since he’d encouraged Adora to take the class in the first place, but she’d been refuting that for weeks; now, he resorted to checking in on the situation from time to time. From a safe distance.</p><p class="p2">Adora groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Same thing, week after week. She walks in late, so I can’t talk to her. She dips out at light speed as soon as class is over, so I can’t talk to her. And she <em>still</em> hasn’t texted me.”</p><p class="p2">Bow tsked, shooting out a hand to steady Adora as she nearly tripped over a rock. “I’m sorry, dude. But she’ll have to talk to you eventually for the project and all.”</p><p class="p2">“I <em>know, </em>okay,” Adora whined, her slouch imbued with a touch of petulance. “I just…I don’t get why it’s so hard for her to frigging get it <em>over</em> with. It’s like she’s dragging it out, or something.”</p><p class="p2">Their jaws dropped as they suddenly broke through the thick forest into a small clearing. Mulberry Rock stood tall above the redwoods, its rough surface dotted with tiny trees and bushes.</p><p class="p2">Adora looked at Bow, one eyebrow cocked. Bow looked back with a smirk.</p><p class="p2">They took off at a sprint, frantically dodging small plants and fallen trunks in their bid to make it to the rock first. Bow was in prime shape, but he was no match for a star athlete; she beat him to the rocky slope by several seconds and began scaling it on hands and knees, cackling maniacally. Bow’s height gave him a slight advantage in climbing, though; they tied for the first to reach the top.</p><p class="p2">They sat there a moment, panting and wiping sweat from their eyes as they took in the 360-degree view of the landscape. The hills at their backs were carpeted in old growth redwood forest as far as the eye could see; in front lay the Pacific, its dark, languid waves lapping against the rocky shore.</p><p class="p2">“We ready?” Bow chirped once he’d caught his breath. Adora nodded with a grin.</p><p class="p2">They stripped off their sweaty shirts, leaving Bow shirtless and Adora in her sports bra, both shivering with pleasure as the cool breeze tickled their skin. Bow laid his shirt out behind him and reclined against the rocky surface with an appreciative sigh.</p><p class="p2">Adora leaned back on her elbows, eyes on the waves. “Suntanning on Mulberry Rock. Cross that one off the list.” In all honesty, suntanning may have been too strong a word; the sky was slightly overcast and would stay that way until next summer.</p><p class="p2">Bow hummed and Adora turned to him with a smile, suddenly more cheerful than she’d been in weeks. It felt good to see him relax, thin chest scars confidently on display, without a care in the world. The first time he’d let Glimmer and Adora see the scars—while flexing, of course—Adora had nearly cried with happiness at his milestone.</p><p class="p2">Bow turned to her, squinting against the dull sunlight. “Sooo…”</p><p class="p2"><em>Let’s just nip that in the bud, why don’t we. </em>“Sooo, how are <em>your </em>classes?”</p><p class="p2">“Oh, <em>so </em>dope,” he replied with a sarcastic chuckle, though his eyes narrowed further. “You know how electrical engineering is. Nonstop fun. At least I have archery club to keep me sane…feels good to shoot stuff.”</p><p class="p2">“Pfft, c’mon. You know you love your major.”</p><p class="p2">Bow rolled his eyes, smiling gently. “Yeah, I do. I <em>don’t</em> love the metric shitton of homework, though. And man, the <em>projects—</em>”</p><p class="p2">A familiar, sickly smog of dread swept over Adora as Bow playfully listed his woes, leaving her struggling to maintain her cheerful mood. A laundry list of worries flooded in without warning: the sooner the semester ended, the sooner the spring crew season would start, and she felt far from ready. She was run ragged before sunrise every day, and she worked nights at the gym. Having easy access to the machines and weights was great—having to scare off dudebros who hogged said equipment for hours or tried to creep on girls was not.</p><p class="p2">With a quiet sigh, Adora vividly recalled how crew practice used to be <em>fun.</em> Now it was a slog, compounded by the sheer number of upper div units she had undertaken in a fit of optimistic stupidity. An exam or assignment lurked around every corner, and the prospect of that frigging <em>philosophy project </em>haunted her constantly. The class as a whole wasn’t so bad; the readings were easy enough, if a little outside of her scope, and George was a good professor.</p><p class="p2">Adora huffed, though not loud enough for Bow to hear. <em>Class is fine. What bugs me is </em>weeks<em> of Catra not even looking at me.</em></p><p class="p2">Sure, Adora had resolved to let the dust of their past friendship finally settle in a semi-clean break. Sure, she’d tried to respect Catra’s space by not physically dragging her into a conversation before the other girl could flee the classroom. And sure, Adora successfully suppressed the (near-constant) urge to show up at Catra’s door and demand some answers.</p><p class="p2">A sudden draft of wind from the coast ruffled the few free strands of Adora’s hair; she brought her arms up to refasten the ponytail, marveling at the sea of massive trees and…actual sea laid out beneath the rock.</p><p class="p2"><em>Man, we’re so high up, </em>Adora thought in quiet awe. Then, wistfully: <em>Catra would love this.</em></p><p class="p2">With a gasp, Adora froze with a deathgrip on her half-done ponytail. Bow shot her a startled look as her arms fell limp at her sides, hair spilling loose and twirling in the wind.</p><p class="p2">“Catra’s birthday is next Friday,” Adora mumbled. She hunched forward, shivering as a strong sea breeze licked at her skin and whipped her hair into her eyes. “I can’t believe I almost forgot.”</p><p class="p2">“Adora,” Bow said softly, sitting up on his elbows.</p><p class="p2">“Should I get her something? I haven’t gotten her anything in years, you know, ‘cause she changed her number and everything, and I couldn’t—”</p><p class="p2">“Adora,” Bow said again, firmly. He scooted closer and bumped a shoulder against hers as she stared empty-eyed out to sea, mind running wild. “I got something I wanna bounce off of you.” She turned, eyes questioning.</p><p class="p2">Bow went on in his best soothing tone. “Some of my GSA friends are helping to host a dance that same Friday, like a Halloween-slash-prom-slash-whatever thing. I thought maybe you’d wanna go.”</p><p class="p2">Adora let her gaze fall to the forest below. Bow usually attended the GSA meetings religiously, but he had schedule conflicts this semester. He’d <em>also </em>been trying to drag Adora there for years, but she always coughed up an excuse at the last minute: <em>but gym, but tired, but homework, but crew team</em>.</p><p class="p2"><em>So many buts. </em>Normally Adora would guffaw at the childish innuendo, but humor seemed a distant concept at present. “I don’t have time for stuff like that this semester, man…”</p><p class="p2">“Hey, listen.” He held up a hand, turning down a finger with each point he voiced. “One: you really need to let loose because I’ve <em>never </em>seen you this stressed, and that's saying something. Two: you didn’t go to prom with me and Glimm in high school. Three: it’ll be fun as hell. Four: maybe there’ll be, I dunno…a nice girl?”</p><p class="p2">His middle finger was the last one standing; Adora rolled her eyes and gave him a light shove, earning a giggle from the boy. Her mental gears turned, mulling over the <em>conversation</em> that never stayed dead for long. Adora blew out a breath and tried to come up with a rebuttal that would make sense. Failing, she stayed silent.</p><p class="p2">It wasn’t like Bow and Glimmer tried to <em>force </em>her into dating—Adora probably would (figuratively) punch someone’s lights out for implying as much. It was more like her two best friends were on a loop, every so often coming around to the same conclusion that j<em>eez Adora needs to let loose</em> which always ended up mutating into<em> haha</em> <em>Adora should date wouldn’t that be fun?</em></p><p class="p2">Adora had stayed firmly in the <em>Adora should </em>not <em>date, it would </em>not<em> be fun </em>camp since coming out of the closet, a stance she made as obvious as possible to Bow, Glimmer, and the few misguided women who drifted her way from time to time. School and athletics left little time for anything else—besides, purposefully hitting on someone seemed about as easy as safely crossing a minefield, and Adora was <em>not</em> prepared to learn the ropes. God, just the way she’d finally figured out the whole gay thing was embarrassing enough, so of course it was Glimmer’s favorite story to tell at parties.</p><p class="p2">A chain of dominoes began to fall one day freshman year when Glimmer and Bow had witnessed a particularly awkward conversation between Adora and that friendly girl down the hall—Adora hadn’t even put the pieces together until only a few weeks ago, when Bow revealed that this girl had been <em>seriously </em>crushing on Adora at the time.</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Douche.</em>
</p><p class="p2">Through stupidity or insanity, Adora had reluctantly allowed Bow and Glimmer to haul her into—of all things—a humid, dark, <em>loud </em>18+ strip club a few towns over from the school. She had kept her eyes glued to her soda while Glimmer and Bow cheered the dancers acrobatically slithering around the pole, slipping dollar bills to the particularly skilled ones. They snuck each other strange, humorous looks when they thought Adora wasn’t paying attention.</p><p class="p2">Well, Adora had eyes only for her soda until a particular dancer strode on stage and made her heart stutter, then and now.</p><p class="p2">
  <em>She was lithe, slight of frame, with a deep tan that perfectly complemented her mane of dark hair. Her shoulders and nearly-bare chest were lightly dusted with freckles.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Bow and Glimmer had been side-eyeing Adora the entire night, waiting for a chance to prove an (apparently) long-held theory. True to their natures, they straight up called her out.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>“See something you like, bro?” Bow shouted above the music, driving an elbow into Adora’s side that nearly made her spill her soda. </em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>“I, uh. What?”</em>
</p><p class="p2"><em>“You </em>like <em>that girl, huh?” Glimmer piped up in her happy-drunk voice. She’d snuck in her favorite pink flask and repeatedly offered it to Adora, who turned it down every time for fear of being caught. </em></p><p class="p2"><em>“She’s…pretty,” Adora choked out. But so what? Lots of people were pretty, though that girl on the stage </em>was<em> otherworldly. Adora couldn’t tear her eyes away.</em></p><p class="p2">
  <em>Her friends shot each other a knowing look before guffawing and pounding their fists on the table. Glimmer had barely caught her breath before shouting “called it!” and laughing ten times harder.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Adora frowned and pursed her lips. “What the hell are you talking about?”</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>“Adora.” Bow chuckled, leaning forward and draping an arm around Adora’s shoulders as he struggled to speak through the residual giggles. “Have you ever considered... that you might be… into chicks?”</em>
</p><p class="p2"><em>In short, no, she hadn’t. When she said as much, Bow and Glimmer howled, but the gears in her head were irrevocably set into motion. Adora </em>felt <em>something for that girl, a pleasant, hot buzzing low in her stomach that she certainly didn’t feel for any guys she’d ever met. No, she wanted to </em>know <em>that girl. Maybe more than that.</em></p><p class="p2">
  <em>Under the crushing weight of that epiphany, all Adora could do was meekly mutter, “Is that…bad?”</em>
</p><p class="p2">Presently, Adora rolled her eyes. Weaver’s strict, conservative upbringing was clearly a force to be reckoned with, especially back then, but this was now. Adora could do whatever she wanted and to hell with Weaver. Plus, she had the perfect outfit.</p><p class="p2">She turned to Bow with a sly grin.</p><p class="p2">“You know what? I’ll come to the party. <em>But,</em>” she added as Bow was let loose a cheer, “my future wife better be there, ‘cause otherwise I’ll beat your ass for wasting my study time.”</p><p class="p2">They playfully shoved at each other, their belly laughs carried away by the sea wind.</p><p class="p2">—</p><p class="p2"><em>Wow. Now that…is a muffin. </em>Catra turned the coffee-flavored wonder over in her hand, marveling at the taste.</p><p class="p2">Perfuma was wrapping up the meeting with the usual summary of what they’d discussed, plus a cheerful reminder about the off-campus dance later that night. She had clearly upped the culinary ante this week; as club president, Perfuma always felt the responsibility to bake something nice for the GSA, but these muffins were just <em>incredible.</em></p><p class="p2">Plus, it was basically the only thing Catra had eaten all day, so… there was that. She’d also skipped all her classes because, hey—birthdays only come once a year, right?</p><p class="p2">People packed up and pushed away from the circle of chairs as the meeting ended, idle chit-chat filling the air. Catra slung her knapsack over a shoulder and went to wait for Scorpia by the door, smirking as she noticed that—as usual—Scorpia was enthusiastically chatting with Perfuma, a light blush on both their cheeks. The obvious crush between them was both a little nauseating <em>and</em> kind of cute, though Catra would never utter such a thought on pain of death.</p><p class="p2">Catra wasn't totally comfortable at the GSA yet, but she did feel far more at ease than at her first meeting a few weeks back. She still rarely chipped in with the discussions, but she got more out of hearing other people talk about their own experiences anyway.</p><p class="p2">No hookups, though; some of the girls were kinda cute, but Catra didn’t really hit it off with anyone. Probably for the best, seeing as she was incredibly busy. She groaned under her breath, remembering the lab report that she desperately needed to finish, quickly resolving to just do it on Sunday at the last possible second.</p><p class="p2">Scorpia finally broke away from Perfuma, sporting a goofy grin as she made her way over to Catra. “What now, Wildcat?”</p><p class="p2">“Home, I guess. Then I’ll probably head to the Horde house and drink some of their booze,” Catra replied, shrugging. “Birthday girl rights.”</p><p class="p2">“You’ve been there every other night for like, two weeks!” Scorpia whined. It sounded playful, but she failed to hide an undercurrent of concern that made Catra automatically seethe—just a little. “You said you were gonna go to the dance,” Scorpia mumbled a moment later.</p><p class="p2">“Scorpiaaaa,” Catra drawled, rolling her eyes at the speech to come. She wanted more than anything to just kick back with some (free) beers and do nothing all night, but the dance party was a <em>dry </em>event.</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Gross.</em>
</p><p class="p2">“Please? It’ll be fun, I promise. <em>And</em> I won’t tell anyone it’s your birthday.” Scorpia fully shifted into begging mode, clasping her hands together and giving her best puppy eyes.</p><p class="p2">“Okay<em>, fine</em>. Fine. I’ll go.” Catra sighed, shoving her glasses up her nose as she turned to walk out the door with Scorpia close behind. “But I’m gonna complain the whole time.”</p><p class="p2">Later that night, Catra found herself in the downtown liquor store (aptly and disgustingly nicknamed the Stinky Pinky on account of the garish paint job). She came alone, not particularly keen on asking Scorpia to buy booze for her. The bottle had become a <em>very </em>close friend as of late, so it was also just…kind of embarrassing to drag Scorpia into that, <em>and</em> by asking her to (technically) commit a crime no less. Catra reminded herself that there was only one year left until she wouldn't have to worry about logistical crap when it came to something as necessary as buying booze.</p><p class="p2">There was one shining beacon of hope in the night, though; a particular clerk at this liquor store had never, <em>ever </em>carded her. It was a dream come true that also made it way too easy to pick up a couple of six packs after class every day, but she had a handle on the drinking—really.</p><p class="p2">Mostly.</p><p class="p2"><em>It’s not like I’ve missed class. </em>Catra plucked a small bottle of Fireball whiskey from the shelf, watching the amber liquid shine in the fluorescent light. <em>I do all the homework and I turn everything in on time. It’s fine.</em></p><p class="p2">She ambled up to the counter and nonchalantly placed the bottle down, tossing in a pack of vape cartridges she grabbed from a nearby rack. Mentally, she fist-pumped; the tall, ever-grinning clerk who never carded was on shift. She probably would have taken the chance anyway, but it was still a relief.</p><p class="p2">“Hey, kitten,” they purred, using the nickname they’d come up with once it had become clear Catra was turning into a regular. They scanned the bottle and cartridge pack, grinning down at her. “Plans tonight? Or just the usual ‘me-time’?”</p><p class="p2">Catra bristled at the (very accurate, not so subtle) call-out but tried to play it off, tilting her head back to shoot an icy glare right into the clerk’s eyes. “Got shit to do, parties to crash. You know me, DT.”</p><p class="p2">They laughed, flicking a long, bleached blonde length of hair from their face. “Sure beats drinking away your feelings, huh?” Catra merely grunted, then gulped as DT pleasantly said, “ID, please.”</p><p class="p2">“Uh, I…left it in my car,” Catra mumbled, too shocked to play it cool. DT leaned over the counter and eyed the empty parking lot for a split second before straightening up with a ghoulish grin.</p><p class="p2">“I’m sure ya did. Well, no harm done. You have fun now, <em>kitten</em>.”</p><p class="p2">Catra grabbed her purchases, strode outside, and sped to her apartment in record time. <em>Jeez, what the hell? Still got my booze, though; better put it in a water bottle or something. Shit, maybe I should have gotten something that looks like water.</em></p><p class="p2">After getting home and tossing the bottle on the couch, Catra tore through her closet for something to wear. She dimly recalled that wearing a Halloween costume was (thankfully) optional.</p><p class="p2"><em>Yeah, no thanks. I may have just the thing, though. </em>She pulled out a button-up shirt, her only blazer, and some slacks, grinning and brushing her fingers over the material.</p><p class="p2">An errant impulse stilled her hand, face twisting into a grimace.</p><p class="p2"><em>Maybe I should finally text Adora. </em>Catra recoiled from the vulnerability of this uninvited thought, allowing steely disappointment to take its place.<em> No, she probably forgot my birthday. It’s been three years, and she has a lot going on, because she’s…the way she is. </em></p><p class="p2">That definitely wasn’t why Catra had skipped class this morning, no, not at all—though if she thought about it, finding out for sure that Adora <em>had </em>forgotten her birthday would probably hurt. A lot. Better to leave it hanging.</p><p class="p2">Catra’s foot brushed a six pack of beer on the floor as she moved to drape her chosen outfit over the desk. She contemplated the bottles for a moment, weighing her options.</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Eh, never too early to pregame, right?</em>
</p><p class="p2">A few hours later, Catra was waiting on the living room couch, enveloped in a pleasant beer buzz. Scorpia—done up in a partially shredded black dress and some witch-adjacent makeup—walked in, followed by Entrapta in her normal overalls-and-a-tshirt getup. Catra often wondered if she owned anything else.</p><p class="p2">“Should I call an Uber?” Catra asked, pulling out her phone. Scorpia shook her head.</p><p class="p2">“Nah, I’ll drive. The rec center is a little far and the Ubers will probably be busy all night with the bars.”</p><p class="p2">“Hmm, true. Well, let’s do it.”</p><p class="p2">The three of them stepped out of the apartment, instantly embraced by the frigid night air. Scorpia shivered slightly, Entrapta seemed nonplussed, and Catra merely pulled her dark blazer tighter around her chest; she could have rolled down her sleeves, but that was part of the <em>look.</em></p><p class="p2">Scorpia’s humble Honda Accord waited on the street, covered in a thin layer of condensation. Catra turned a wary eye to the sky and hoped that the famed autumn rains wouldn’t decide to start right this moment.</p><p class="p2">—</p><p class="p2">“We ready?” Glimmer asked, decked out in a sparkly princess outfit, warily giving Adora a once-over. The white suit looked decent in the mirror, if a little outdated—which was the entire point.</p><p class="p2">Adora had gone thrifting like a madwoman after financial aid hit freshman year, and—much to Glimmer’s displeasure—brought home a suit that looked like something straight out of the 1970s. Like, bell bottom pants, wide-collared suit jacket, <em>Saturday Night Fever </em>1970s, but that’s why Adora liked it. Plus: perfect Halloween costume material.</p><p class="p2">With a nod at her reflection, Adora turned to Glimmer and grinned. “Ready.”</p><p class="p2">—</p><p class="p2">Catra noted that the drive to the community rec center <em>was </em>surprisingly long. Despite the utter lack of traffic at all hours of the day, the drive still took about twenty minutes—pretty much the time needed to cross from one side of the tiny college town to the other.</p><p class="p2">Scorpia chattered on the whole way—about the dance, school, <em>Perfuma—</em>while Entrapta offered the occasional (sometimes way off-topic) comment. Catra chipped in every so often, for once preferring the sound of idle conversation to silence.</p><p class="p2">Truth be told, she never liked birthdays. If memory served, she’d had to straight up ask Weaver if she even <em>had </em>one when she was like…seven, or something, after noticing that other kids at elementary school went on and on about these <em>birthday </em>things.</p><p class="p2">But if Catra pushed plain truths aside and dug around in her heart for some real honesty, she <em>did </em>like her birthday—or she used to, when Adora had been around, because the little dumbass was always so <em>happy </em>about it that you would’ve assumed it was <em>her </em>birthday instead.</p><p class="p2">Now that she thought about it, Catra could barely remember what Adora had given her for the last birthday they spent together. Most of the gifts from the years before were clear, like the photo of them both that Catra had (regrettably) burned through with a cigarette on one angry, drunken night. The photo held a double significance, seeing as if she was still with her birth family, she probably would have been stuffed in a dress at her quinceañera rather than frying under the sun in a stuffy JROTC uniform.</p><p class="p2">Then for her tenth birthday, Adora had scrounged up some loose change around the house and shelled out for a cheap necklace that Weaver broke within a year—allegedly an accident, but <em>let’s be real.</em></p><p class="p2"><em>Why can’t I remember what she got me for my 16</em><span class="s1"><em><sup>th</sup></em></span><em> birthday? </em>Catra wondered. She stared through the car window as they neared the rec center parking lot, a light drizzle running down the glass. She winced as the memory suddenly hit like a slap. <em>Right. Because I blocked it out.</em></p><p class="p2">
  <em>“Catra?” Adora murmured. It was probably close to midnight, long past lights out, but Catra wasn’t tired enough to sleep; apparently Adora wasn’t either, though she sounded bone-weary. </em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Catra shifted to peer down at Adora from the top bunk, face carefully controlled. “Yeah?”</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>“Happy birthday.” The sheets rustled as Adora sat up and reached a hand up to the edge of Catra’s bunk. She slowly unfolded her palm, and Catra had to focus to make out what was within. </em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>A tiny, plain box. Definitely an improvement compared to the possibility Catra had been agonizing over all day—that Adora had actually, for the very first time, forgotten her birthday and gotten her nothing. That would have been unsurprising, judging by how she spent nearly all her time with her new rich friends when she could get away with it. Catra had already covered for her with Weaver more than once. It was getting old.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>But Adora was Adora; she always came through, if a little late. Catra gingerly took the box from Adora’s palm and held it up to her face.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>“What is it?”</em>
</p><p class="p2"><em>Adora snorted. “You could just </em>open <em>it.”</em></p><p class="p2">
  <em>“Shut up.”Catra separated the lid from the box, squinting. “It’s…empty?”</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>“Gotcha,” Adora quietly trilled, suppressing a chuckle. “No, but seriously. I did get you something.”</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>“Okay, well, can I…fucking have it, then?”</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Adora tsked, offering a playful taunt: “Come and get it.”</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Catra’s body tensed. Did Adora mean what that sounded like? It had been a year since they’d shared a bed, having rarely done so for a few years before that. It was a childish habit Catra had shied away from mostly due to Weaver’s constant reprimands. Besides, they were older now; Catra had just turned sixteen, and Adora would be seventeen in a few months. Wasn’t sleeping together sort of…weird?</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Pushing her doubts aside, Catra carefully lowered herself from the side of her bunk until her feet met the floor. Adora scooted over, flipping up the thin blanket; Catra warily slid in, nearly hanging off the side as she pointedly kept some space between them, though she wasn’t sure why the distance seemed so important.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Adora rested her head on an arm, folding it underneath the pillow. This was the real Adora, Catra thought—no awards to win, games to play, or rules to follow. On this late night in October, Adora had nothing to prove. She could merely be.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Catra noted that Adora seemed tired, though, and maybe a little sad. It was so unlike her to show that side of herself; the side that carried all the expectations, the weight of what she was versus what she was supposed to be. It was a little frightening, and intriguing, both familiar and alien all at once.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Adora’s hand slipped out from under the pillow, closed in a loose fist that she held out to Catra.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>“Are you giving me a black eye for my birthday? That’s a pretty shit present,” Catra grumbled, though her words were empty of malice.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Adora groaned. “You’re supposed to open it. Like a box.”</em>
</p><p class="p2"><em>“But you </em>had <em>a box, idiot.”</em></p><p class="p2">
  <em>“Do you want it or not?”</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Catra grumbled, but still placed a hand on Adora’s closed fist. Her hand was warm, rough-hewn by sports and exercise, though soft in its own way. The physicality of Adora’s presence was almost intimidating at times—or it would have been, had Catra not grown up alongside her. She was fully aware of the soft of heart, dumb of ass blonde that lay underneath the ropes of muscle, barely a half a foot away.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Adora’s fingers came apart like a blooming flower as Catra slowly bent them open; she picked the item up and scanned it in the darkness.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>“Um…a rock?” </em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>“Oh, for the—you can’t see what color it is, can you?” Adora smacked herself on the forehead, muttering. “I found it a few weeks ago. It’s got both of your eye colors, and I just thought it was really pretty and like, whoa, what are the chances, right? So I just—”</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>“Adora, you’re gonna wake everyone up, so shut it,” Catra whispered. She rubbed the smooth stone with a fingertip—mentally noting to look at the colors in the morning—and rolled over to gently place it on the floor beside the bunk. In the same motion, she swung a leg off the bed but was suddenly held back by a light grip on her shoulder.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>“Wait, Catra…” Adora said, leaving the thought unfinished, though Catra knew exactly what was being asked of her—and if she was being honest with herself, she had hoped for that very question.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Catra tried to keep her breathing level as she shifted back under the covers. Adora smiled and tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear, looking down at the smaller girl in the most gentle and sad way that Catra had ever seen; it drove a spike of confused fear into her chest.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Adora slid lower onto the bed, making no move to touch Catra. The space between them felt false, artificial, like Adora was hiding a lie, or Catra was ignoring an obvious truth. Acting on impulse, Catra gently reached her hands out to cup the face of her oldest friend and brought their foreheads together. She studied the way Adora’s eyes seemed to mist suddenly—and how the blonde turned her gaze away, as if afraid.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>But there was no need to delve into that, Catra knew. There was no room for those words. Nothing bad could happen as long as they were together, no matter what else changed.<br/></em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Or what didn't.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>“Good night,” Catra whispered, knowing she’d have to wake up early enough to climb into her own bunk before Weaver saw them, but equally sure that this moment was worth it.</em>
</p><p class="p2">Heart aching, skin flushed, Catra desperately shoved the memory away. <em>If only I’d known, </em>she thought, barely resisting the urge to ball her hands into fists and punch through the car window. By next semester, Adora had left; left the school, left Weaver’s house, and above all, left Catra. <em>Maybe she would have stayed if I had said…If I’d realized that I was…that I—</em></p><p class="p2">“By the way, I really think you should’ve worn the cat ears,” Scorpia said as she pulled the car into a parking spot, shifted into park, and turned off the engine. Catra rolled her eyes—that horrible “costume” idea had been vetoed <em>immediately, </em>and she had thanked all the gods in the universe that costumes were <em>optional</em>. She stalked off toward the doors of the building, Scorpia and Entrapta in tow.</p><p class="p2">The inside of the large rec center was fully decked out with fake bats, cobwebs, dim orange lights—the whole deal. Catra quickly found a few favorite partygoers: some guy in a banana costume, a (<em>kind of hot, not gonna lie, wow I can finally admit that to myself, though how is she not cold?</em>) girl in a pretty decent Xena get up, and so on. Many people wandered around in nothing more than a onesie, and Catra quickly felt a little overdressed. At least it was kind of dark.</p><p class="p2">Pushing social discomfort aside, she slipped the small water bottle of Fireball from the hem of her pants and took a burning swig, choking down a cinnamon-infused cough as Scorpia’s arm landed heavily on her shoulder. Catra didn’t bother looking for Entrapta, who had <em>definitely </em>snuck away to a dark corner to…watch, or something, as she usually did.</p><p class="p2">“Wanna dance?” Scorpia asked, not-so-subtly nudging them closer to the throng of people near the DJ and his laptop. It was kind of a slow song; most people had taken the cue and grabbed a partner, gently swaying and laughing.</p><p class="p2">Catra wanted to say no, but felt as if she owed Scorpia one for what the poor girl had put up with during the last few weeks: slacking on chores a bit, drinking late into the night and blasting music—shit like that. Even Catra could admit that Scorpia had been a <em>very </em>good friend recently, always doing her clumsy best to make Catra feel at home both in the GSA and her still-raw identity.</p><p class="p2">So Catra didn’t say no. Instead, she took another pull of whiskey, smirked up at the taller girl, and declared: “Okay, but I’m leading.”</p><p class="p2">—</p><p class="p2"><em>Why are they like this? </em>Adora wondered miserably. She surreptitiously reached towards the flask in Glimmer’s hand, only to have it slip away as the red-faced girl paused her tirade at Bow long enough to take a swig. Ordinarily, Adora wouldn’t have dared to even <em>think </em>of alcohol at a dry event, but Bow had assured her that it was “dry” only for the purposes of official paperwork; nearly everyone at the party was drinking from a water or juice bottle that <em>definitely </em>did not contain water <em>or</em> juice.</p><p class="p2">The chaos started when it came out that Bow had promised to be a date of sorts for Perfuma, mostly to give them a chance to catch up since he hadn't been able to attend the GSA meetings this semester. Clearly, Glimmer had (very vocally) taken it the wrong way, and Perfuma had tactfully dipped the hell out of the mess to gave the two of them space to figure it out.</p><p class="p2">Adora tuned out the loop of “<em>what about our thing, well what’s wrong with a new thing, but I liked our thing!</em>” and hesitantly let her thoughts turn to Catra’s birthday. She’d actually plucked up enough courage to get a gift and bring it to their class, only to find…no Catra.</p><p class="p2">It wasn’t a stretch for Adora to imagine that Catra’s absence was specifically orchestrated to spite her, but she resolved to try again on Monday. She’d bought the damn thing after all; might as well hand it over <em>and </em>try to initiate the <em>hey, when are we gonna do the project?</em> discussion that she’d been dreading for weeks.</p><p class="p2">Finally, there was an opening; Adora deftly snatched the pink flask from an unassuming Glimmer and took a mouthful that went down like fruity acid. She tucked the flask into her suit pocket, bemoaning her luck; God only knew why Bow thought it was a good idea to pick up a 4Loko of all things, but it was too late.</p><p class="p2"><em>This crap is disgusting. </em>Adora wiped her mouth and stared longingly at the dance floor. The music was…okay, but definitely not energetic enough to brighten her sour mood. With one last look at Glimmer and Bow—still in the throes of their argument—Adora tiptoed up to the DJ’s little table. He slipped the headphones off one ear and peeked over his laptop, an eyebrow cocked.</p><p class="p2">Adora found that one benefit of the mighty, disgusting 4Loko is courage. “Hey, can you play a song for me?”</p><p class="p2">“Only if it’s your birthday, dude,” the DJ replied without missing a beat; clearly, it was his go-to response, but Adora was a quick study.</p><p class="p2">“Oh, <em>but it is</em>. October 28<span class="s1"><sup>th</sup></span>, 11:37pm. It was a Thursday.” Adora snapped off Catra’s birth details without thinking, not sure if even Catra knew all that—Adora only knew from taking the briefest of peeks at the girl’s folder in Weaver’s desk, years ago.</p><p class="p2">The DJ was dumbfounded, but his face quickly split into a grin. “You know what, I don’t even care if that’s true. What song do you want?”</p><p class="p2">He guffawed when Adora told him the request, but a pleading <em>I’m the birthday girl, remember?</em> look cut his mirth short. She had already turned to wait on the side of the dance floor when he asked for a name, to which she instantly replied “Catra<em>” </em>without thinking.</p><p class="p2"><em>Kinda feels like identity theft, but it would have felt weirder to say </em>my<em> name with all her birthday stuff, I guess. </em>Adora shuffled off to the side, watching the crowd as she waited for the current song to end.</p><p class="p2">A familiar white undercut bobbing over the sea of heads drew Adora’s eye as her stomach curled into a ball. Her gaze slithered down the semi-familiar face of Scorpia, Catra’s very tall, beefy roommate—distantly appreciating the cool dress—to then land on Catra in a burgundy suit, her hands on Scorpia’s hips. They made a turn, Catra clearly leading, both of them laughing.</p><p class="p2">If a brain could short-circuit, Adora’s was busted beyond repair. She gaped open-mouthed—<em>Catra dancing, Catra dancing </em>with <em>someone, whadafuck—</em>right at the moment that Catra saw her too, eyes widening in shock before narrowing into a scowl. Adora’s legs moved of their own accord, drawing her inexorably across the dance floor.</p><p class="p2">Catra leaned up to say something to Scorpia; she nodded frantically before scuttling away. Slowly, languidly, Catra wove her way through the crowd to meet Adora. She swayed slightly on her feet, maybe more than a little tipsy. Adora could relate. Her thrumming pulse shot the 4Loko straight to her brain, and with the rush of alcoholic haze came simmering anger as well.</p><p class="p2">“Hey, <em>Catra. </em>What are you doing here?” Adora demanded, perhaps a <em>tad </em>more pissed than intended, but <em>oops.</em></p><p class="p2">Catra leaned back, one hand on her hip, the other pressed indignantly against her pale red button-up. “What, am I not allowed to be places? It’s my <em>birthday, </em>after all—or did you forget?”</p><p class="p2">“I meant—ugh, forget it,” Adora snapped. The party wasn’t hosted by <em>only </em>the GSA, and even if it was, Scorpia was clearly gay as hell; she’d probably brought Catra along as an ally or something. Though, something about the way they danced together... “Of course I didn’t forget your birthday, asshat. You weren’t in class this morning and <em>it’s not like I have your number.</em>”</p><p class="p2">Catra’s eyes clouded over, but whether with anger or weariness Adora couldn’t tell. “Okay, yeah, I’ll own that.”</p><p class="p2">“We really need to start the project,” Adora went on as the crowd around them thinned. “You don’t know how much shit I have on my plate right now, and I <em>really </em>want it out of the way so I don’t have to think about it anymore.” <em>About you, anymore, </em>was left unsaid, though the bite still hung in the air.</p><p class="p2">“Oh, my bad,” Catra scoffed, now definitely more pissed than weary. “Didn’t realize that thinking about our little <em>project </em>was taking so much time away from being <em>She-Ra—”</em></p><p class="p2">
  <em>“You know I hate being called that—”</em>
</p><p class="p2">“—it’s such a chore having to be around me, I know,<em> I’m</em> around me all the<em> fucking time</em>—”</p><p class="p2">“That isn’t what I—”</p><p class="p2"><em>“HEY FOLKS, LISTEN UP,” </em>the DJ blared over the speakers. Adora and Catra snapped their heads in unison to look. “<em>We have a birthday girl in the hooouuuuse! WHOOP WHOOP!”</em></p><p class="p2">A small part of Adora realized that she should be panicking, but she couldn’t quite remember why. It became abundantly clear as soon as the DJ opened his mouth again.</p><p class="p2">“<em>Happy birthday to CATRA! Enjoy your song, girl!</em>”</p><p class="p2">Catra and Adora turned to each other, faces equally blank as the song Adora had requested began billowing from the speakers.</p><p class="p2">Adora was clearly not the only one whose brain was capable of short-circuiting. Catra’s mouth opened, closed, and opened again, before muttering (in the mildest tone Adora had ever heard her use): “Carly Rae Jepsen? Really?”</p><p class="p2">“I-I can explain,” Adora stammered. Her stomach clenched as Catra suddenly bared her teeth in a devilish grin; without a word, she grabbed Adora's hand, hauled her into the middle of the dance floor, and started <em>moving. </em></p><p class="p3">
  <em>I had a dream, or was it real?</em>
</p><p class="p3">
  <em>We crossed the line and it was on</em>
</p><p class="p3">
  <em>We crossed the line, it was on this time</em>
</p><p class="p2">“You just gonna stand there wasting my birthday song?” Catra drawled, punching not-so-lightly at Adora’s shoulder with every beat, hips swiveling.</p><p class="p3">
  <em>I've been denying how I feel, you've been denying what you want</em>
</p><p class="p3">
  <em>You want from me, talk to me baby</em>
</p><p class="p3">
  <em>I want some satisfaction, take me to the stars, just say "oh"</em>
</p><p class="p2">Adora began to numbly move to the rhythm, her gaze locked on Catra’s eyes, though they quickly vanished as her lenses fogged over. Catra slid the glasses off and folded them into her jacket pocket, shaking her hair out as they continued to dance together—close to touching, but not quite.</p><p class="p3">
  <em>I wanna cut through the clouds, break the ceiling</em>
</p><p class="p3">
  <em>I wanna dance on the roof, you and me alone</em>
</p><p class="p3">
  <em>I wanna cut to the feeling, oh yeah</em>
</p><p class="p3">
  <em>I wanna cut to the feeling, oh yeah</em>
</p><p class="p2">“Nice suit,” Catra shouted over the pounding chorus, dragging her eyes over the expanse of Adora’s outfit. Adora bristled at the sarcasm, though her face flushed.</p><p class="p3">
  <em>I wanna play where you play with the angels</em>
</p><p class="p3">
  <em>I wanna wake up with you all in tangles, oh</em>
</p><p class="p3">
  <em>I wanna cut to the feeling, oh yeah</em>
</p><p class="p3">
  <em>I wanna cut to the feeling, oh yeah</em>
</p><p class="p2">“Uh, you too,” Adora mumbled, not at <em>all</em> sarcastic. Catra crept closer, her eyes half lidded as she swayed to the beat, shooting a snarky grin at Adora’s stiff dance moves. <em>Man, it’s hot in here. Stupid suit.</em></p><p class="p3">
  <em>Cancel your reservations, no more hesitations this is on</em>
</p><p class="p3">
  <em>I can't make it stop, give me all you got</em>
</p><p class="p3">
  <em>I want it all or nothing, no more in between, now give your</em>
</p><p class="p3">
  <em>Everything to me, let's get real baby</em>
</p><p class="p3">
  <em>A chemical reaction, take me in your arms and make me "oh"</em>
</p><p class="p2">“C’mon, grandma, let loose,” Catra teased. Before Adora could form a rebuttal<em>, </em>Catra’s hands came down on her shoulders, loosely gripping the lapel of her suit jacket. The sudden movement knocked Adora off balance—she snaked her hands around Catra’s waist to ground herself, pulling them chest to chest.</p><p class="p2">Though one of Adora’s favorites, the song faded under the impact of having Catra so close, so suddenly. Her breath smelled slightly of cinnamon and <em>whiskey—Ew, fireball?—</em>but it was sort of pleasant in an odd way. Adora numbly sensed one of Catra’s hands sliding from her shoulder and down the curve of her back, coming to a light rest right at the base of her spine, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.</p><p class="p2">Time slowed to a crawl as Catra somehow came even closer, eyes nearly shut. Her other hand slid from Adora’s shoulder to cup the back of her neck as the hand on her lower back pressed tighter. Chest fluttering, mind raging, all to the tune of a 4Loko buzz, Adora could barely form a coherent thought.</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Is she—?</em>
</p><p class="p2">—</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Am I—?</em>
</p><p class="p2">Catra’s eyes flew open, her sight almost entirely taken up by Adora’s shocked face hovering above her. Sweaty, pupils blown, mouth slightly open—she looked <em>scared</em>.</p><p class="p2"><em>What the </em>fuck <em>am I doing?</em></p><p class="p2">Catra abruptly shifted their balance, hooking a foot behind Adora’s and lowering the taller girl into an unbalanced dip. She fumbled blindly for Catra’s shoulders, a muscled leg grazing between Catra’s thighs that sent white-hot sparks shooting through her abdomen. Catra willed herself to focus on the burning in her arms from holding up Adora’s weight.</p><p class="p2">“Thanks for the dance,” Catra croaked, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt.</p><p class="p2">Perfectly in time with the end of the song, Adora swung upright, blinking hard as Catra extracted herself and moved to make a quick exit. At that, a thunderous surge of anger rolled over Adora's features; in one swift movement she scooped Catra into a bridal style carry, carting her off the dance floor like a sack of potatoes. Catra’s shock was undercut by a dazzling heat thrumming under her breast, due in no small part to Adora’s brazen display of easy strength.</p><p class="p2">She still had <em>some </em>self-respect, though. “Adora, what the fuck—put me down!” she howled to no reply as Adora shoved open the door to the restroom, dumped her on the floor, and glared. The blonde slipped a trembling hand into her suit pocket, pulled out a pink flask—mysteriously bedazzled only with the word <em>fuck </em>in cursive—and took a long pull that twisted her face into a scowl.</p><p class="p2">“What the <em>fuck </em>was that, Catra?” Adora roared, gesturing wildly with the flask and running the other hand raggedly down her face.</p><p class="p2">Catra struggled to her feet, blindly pawing at her waistband for her own booze. “I—uh.” She finally grasped the bottle and drained a quarter of it, gagging. “I dunno what you mean.”</p><p class="p2">Adora’s face darkened by three shades. “You don’t talk to me for <em>weeks, </em>you don’t even text me, and then you, you just—”</p><p class="p2">“<em>Adora</em>, calm the fuck down—”</p><p class="p2">“—our project is due in like a <em>month </em>and we haven’t even started! Like <em>seriously—</em>”</p><p class="p2">“She’s probably just in here—whoa, what the fuck?”</p><p class="p2">Catra peeked over Adora’s shoulder where Glimmer and Bow stood open-mouthed. Adora let out the rest of the breath she’d been saving for the rant and turned, holding a hand up. “Guys. Kind of busy.”</p><p class="p2">“Um, oooh-kay,” Glimmer sputtered as Bow not-so-delicately tugged her away by the elbow. The door slammed shut; Adora kept her eyes glued there for a moment, breathing heavily, before slowly returning her piercing gaze to Catra.</p><p class="p2">“I’m—” Adora started before cutting herself off. She inhaled sharply, lowering her eyes to the floor. “I’m gonna go.”</p><p class="p2">Before moving fully through the door, she turned back to Catra—still rooted in place, knees shaking—and murmured, “Happy birthday, Catra.”</p><p class="p2">All oxygen in the room vanished as the door slammed shut, leaving Catra gasping for breath in the vacuum of Adora's wake. Her heartbeat thundered loud enough to drown out the music coming from the main room, though she was aware enough to pick out the sound of someone approaching the bathroom; she rushed into a stall and slammed the door, sliding the lock shut with fumbling hands.</p><p class="p2">Unfamiliar voices filled the air, laughing and commenting on the party as Catra leaned against the stall door, barely holding back the wave of sobs clawing a hole in her chest. She clenched and unclenched her fists in a steady rhythm, trying, failing to curb the searing ache eating at her ribs.</p><p class="p2"><em>Why did I do that? Why the fuck did I do that? I…I almost </em>kissed<em> her. Stupid, drunk asshole. </em></p><p class="p2">Strangest of all, despite the discomfort she was <em>sure </em>she’d feel from such a blatant show of her sexuality, Catra found that she hadn’t cared at all in that moment. Not a single bit.</p><p class="p2">Catra’s fingers flew to her mouth, sensing the ghost of where Adora’s lips had nearly made contact. Drunken, electric <em>want </em>pulsed through her, nauseatingly layered over the shame of being shouted to pieces by the blonde mere moments ago. Catra <em>desired, </em>she <em>needed, </em>she <em>ached, </em>all for a million parts and pieces of Adora—the roughness of her hands, her open smile, that stupid belly laugh, the scent of laundry and grass on her skin—and Catra knew deep to the brittle, bitter core of her bones that she could not <em>have</em>.</p><p class="p2">The goofy yet sexy suit, the glint of the lights off of her steel-blue eyes, the way she just <em>looked </em>at Catra, the muscles tensing under Catra’s hands—the combination had simply overpowered her already weak mind, addled with booze and dazed by anger. Grinding her knuckles into her teary eyes, she bemoaned her own foolishness as she felt herself coming more and more apart. At this rate, there would be nothing left of her to put back together.</p><p class="p2">Of course Adora had been scared, then pissed; it wasn’t every day that her ex-best friend randomly reentered her life before promptly ghosting her, then nearly kissing her months later. Adora was probably disgusted, hurt, outraged even, and Catra realized with a stab of anguish that she felt more guilty than she’d ever felt in her life, even more guilty than she felt from finding out about Glimmer’s mom. While that mess had been unintentional, a horrible accident that she she still needed to atone for in some cosmic way, throwing herself at Adora on a whim was perfectly avoidable—and she’d done it without a second thought for what Adora wanted, or what the people around them would think. Catra cringed at the idea of being the cause of rumors regarding the star athlete and her <em>proclivities.</em></p><p class="p2"><em>I thought I was over it, but…</em> A sob wrenched itself loose, spilling between the fingers tightly covering her mouth, but the other girls in the bathroom happily chattered on. <em>I’m not over it at all. I’m not over Adora.</em> <em>I still want her. I want her so, so badly.</em></p><p class="p2">Catra craved Adora’s easy embrace, to be engulfed in her arms. She needed to be held, caressed, made whole under the gentle touch of Adora’s calloused hands. She hungered to be unfathomably close to Adora, with nothing between them but smiles and tender skin.</p><p class="p2">The obvious conclusion hammered into Catra’s mind with the intensity of a supernova. She fell to her knees on the dirty tile, ready to empty her roiling stomach into the toilet at a moment’s notice.</p><p class="p2">
  <em>I love her. </em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>I love Adora.</em>
</p><p class="p2">Then less like a wildfire, and more like a soft breeze:</p><p class="p2">
  <em>I always have.</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>—</em>
</p><p class="p2">Between the remnant of Bow and Glimmer’s fight and Adora’s obvious stewing, the ride home was suffused with enough tension to choke an elephant. By the time Bow pulled up to the girls’ apartment complex, most of Adora’s rage had seeped away and left a raw, tender void behind.</p><p class="p2">She and Glimmer parted from Bow without a word in response to his weak “good night.” Adora almost expected Glimmer to dive deep into the mess she’d barely witnessed in the bathroom, but instead she stomped straight to her room and slammed the door. That was a glaring cue for Adora to trudge up the stairs and lock herself in her own room, collapsing on her bed with a low groan.</p><p class="p2">The milky-white ceiling offered no answers, no matter how hard she stared. She closed her eyes and breathed. And breathed. And breathed some more.</p><p class="p2"><em>That couldn’t have been what it looked like. </em>The shimmering picture of Catra creeping closer, eyes slowly sliding shut, was etched into the back of Adora’s eyelids. She chalked it up to Catra being drunk, wild, trying to fuck with her mind. She convinced herself that it added up to anything besides what it felt like at the time, which was that Catra had been about to <em>kiss her.</em></p><p class="p2">A thought came knocking, unbidden but not quite unwelcome, though riding on a torrent of confusion and alarm: <em>I wanted her to.</em></p><p class="p2">Adora rolled from the bed, weak-kneed and spent, but determined to change out of her suit before slipping into uneasy sleep.</p><p class="p2">
  <em>I…wanted her to?</em>
</p><p class="p2">She stripped off the jacket and shirt with shaky fingers, then froze as the phone in her pocket buzzed. Exhaustion creeped into the edges of her vision; it would be so easy to ignore the text and save it for tomorrow when she could think straight, though a message at such a late hour <em>was </em>odd.</p><p class="p2">
  <em>I wanted her to, but…it wasn’t like that. That isn’t what it was. She’s not…</em>
</p><p class="p2">The phone buzzed again.</p><p class="p2">Adora rolled her eyes. It was probably just Glimmer, wanting to talk but too lazy to drag herself to Adora’s room. She slipped the phone from her pocket and unlocked it, staring blankly at the messages. An earthquake could have hit and Adora wouldn’t have noticed.</p><p class="p2"><b> <em>Unknown: </em> </b> <em>hey adora.</em> <em>it’s catra</em></p><p class="p2"><b> <em>Unknown: </em> </b> <em>lets talk?</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>how are we doing watching these poor gays struggle? leave me a comment and let me know, or drop by my tumblr and say hi: samshepard.tumblr.com.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. hot sauce and coffee</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Boxers, coffee, and some uncomfortable memories.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>holy FUCK this took forever again. have fun with another mega chapter :) if there are typos, forgive me; im rushing to upload this before i trudge off to work.</p><p>also to the person who bookmarked this as an admitted carly rae jepsen AU; i love you.</p><p>and thanks to dammit_hawke for a few ideas scattered throughout this chapter ;)</p><p>btw: if you didn't know that shaving a slit into your eyebrow is a gay thing, now you do (its a surprise tool that will help us later).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Adora unlocked her phone and checked for new texts. Nothing in the inbox.</p><p class="p1">Two minutes later she checked again—nothing. She slammed the phone down and huffed, frustrated with her own impatience.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Okay, maybe 10:30 was too early in the morning for her. Or she’s just not coming.</em>
</p><p class="p1">Midterm panic was in full swing in the crowded library. Groups of students huddled around whiteboards, scribbling complex diagrams and listing vocabulary terms, while others hunched over computers and typed like their lives depended on it. There was a buzz of construction work outside; in a demonstration of infinite wisdom the university had decided to revamp most of the library in the middle of exam season.</p><p class="p1">Adora sat at a table on the first floor—rather than the second or third floors which were designated “quiet” zones—for many reasons: for one thing, she found herself more distracted if it was <em>too</em> quiet, and she also figured it was safer to work somewhere that could tolerate a little heated…discussion. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but knowing Catra…</p><p class="p1">Sighing, Adora thought back to Friday night. After mentally rebooting from Catra’s “let’s talk” text and responding with “Sunday, library, 10:30am?” she’d immediately passed out. The next morning she saw that Catra had only sent a thumbs-up emoji, which she interpreted as “yeah, I’ll come.”</p><p class="p1">In hindsight, that might have been a little too optimistic.</p><p class="p1">The rest of Saturday had passed in a nerve-racking haze of studying for other classes, working at the gym, working <em>out </em>at the gym, and worrying—mostly about meeting with Catra, and whether or not she should bring up Friday night. Maybe she should apologize for her outburst in the bathroom, or demand an explanation for whatever the hell happened during their dance together? But whether or not <em>something </em>had actually happened was still up for debate, and Adora couldn’t come to a clear conclusion.</p><p class="p1">Starting a conversation included the assumption that Catra even <em>remembered </em>Friday night. She was clearly more than a little drunk at the time, though Adora was too, so maybe it was just a weird thing that wasn’t <em>at all what it looked or felt like—</em></p><p class="p1">
  <em>Where the hell is she? It’s almost 11.</em>
</p><p class="p1">No, bringing up Friday would only piss Catra off (probably). She was going to be pissed enough as it was having to haul ass to campus on a Sunday (definitely), and Adora really, <em>really </em>needed this one thing to go smoothly. Just once.</p><p class="p1">Still deep in her thoughts, Adora jumped as a shape suddenly slumped into a chair across the table with a rattle that could wake the dead.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, Adora,” Catra mumbled without her usual snark, giving a limp wave. Her face—haggard, mouth drawn taught, eyes sunken in—was nearly engulfed in the hood of her black sweatshirt. She stretched with a groan, joints popping, and propped a bare leg on the table. Adora noted that she wasn’t even wearing pants—just a pair of boxers covered in little cartoons of…hot sauce bottles?</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Is she…? </em>
</p><p class="p1">“Are you even wearing underwear under those?” Adora blurted, immediately clapping a hand over her mouth. <em>Jesus, dude! Boundaries!<br/></em></p><p class="p1">Catra squinted, a smile licking at the corners of her lips though her eyes remained murky.</p><p class="p1">“Typical nosey Adora,” she scolded, wagging a finger. “We gonna do this outline, or what?”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Oh, good. She thinks I’m messing around. Which I was.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Right?</em>
</p><p class="p1">“Uh, outline, right! But…” Cheeks still burning, Adora slipped a delicately-wrapped, thin rectangle from her backpack and placed it on the table between them. “I wanted to give you this first. Happy birthday.”</p><p class="p1">Without moving, Catra pursed her lips and scowled at the hot pink wrapping paper. She looked up and raised an eyebrow.</p><p class="p1">“Oh, um. I didn’t have any wrapping paper, so I used some of, uh, Glimmer’s,” Adora stammered, wringing her hands together under the table. Catra still hadn’t touched the gift; she merely stared at it with an unreadable expression. “Aren’t you gonna open it?”</p><p class="p1">Rolling her eyes, Catra snaked a hand out to pull the package closer. She slowly tore through the wrapping as if the gift were going to explode at any moment; finally, she shook it free from the paper and held it aloft.</p><p class="p1">“A…sketchbook?” She rubbed a thumb over the brown leather binding, turning the book over in her hands and viewing it from every angle. </p><p class="p1">Adora cleared her throat, which had suddenly gone dry. She’d hoped the gift would be self-explanatory, but… “Well, back before school started, when I was in your room, you know, I saw that you had drawing pencils but there was no drawing paper—”</p><p class="p1">“What?” Catra cut in, puzzled. “Why were you looking for paper?”</p><p class="p1">“I, um. No reason.”</p><p class="p1">“Adora.”</p><p class="p1">Adora sighed and averted her eyes. “I was <em>trying </em>to write a thank-you note. For letting me stay there, and…all that. And to say sorry for all the mud.” After a few moments of silence, she brought her gaze back to Catra, who sat perfectly still without blinking.</p><p class="p1">She took a deep breath in, letting it out in a gust. Her words came slowly and hung in the air, saturated with some deeper meaning that Adora couldn’t begin to grasp. “Then why didn’t you?”</p><p class="p1"><em>Because I found the picture of us with a hole burned through my face</em>? is what Adora wanted to say, but that would have started them down a path she feared to walk. “I didn’t find any paper!”</p><p class="p1">“Adora.” Catra huffed a weary sigh, but a mischievous smirk immediately filtered into the cracks of her brittle expression. “Thanks for the sketchbook, but…I have a shitload of them.”</p><p class="p1">Adora’s mouth flew open.“<em>Where?</em>”</p><p class="p1">“Did you try the drawer?”</p><p class="p1">“Uh, duh. The one in the desk.”</p><p class="p1">“The <em>other </em>drawer.”</p><p class="p1">That brought Adora up short. “There’s only one drawer.”</p><p class="p1">“Mmm, no. There’s another drawer. It’s separate from the desk, kinda off to the side. Like, behind it, almost.” Catra pressed her lips together tightly, clearly hiding a grin at Adora’s expense. “Even <em>you </em>should have been able to find it.”</p><p class="p1">“What! I—” Adora spluttered. She dropped her head into her hands and groaned.“I feel so stupid.”</p><p class="p1">Catra snickered, rolling her eyes. “Nothing new, then. But no worries, and…” She sighed softly and nearly smiled, but didn’t. “Thanks. So…project?”</p><p class="p1">“Right.” Adora steadied herself, pulling a blank notebook from her backpack and dropping it on the table. “You think of anything yesterday that we can start with?”</p><p class="p1">“Nope.” Catra clicked her tongue, slouching deep into the chair. After staring Adora down for a second, her head tilted curiously. “Also, what’s up with your eyebrow?”</p><p class="p1">Adora’s hand shot up, feeling the thin, hairless slit, long forgotten though she’d only shaved it yesterday. “Oh, do you like it?”</p><p class="p1">“It’s fine, I guess?”</p><p class="p1">Not sure whether to feel disappointed or reassured, Adora said nothing. The eyebrow slit was a sort of half-assed attempt to see if Catra might, maybe, <em>possibly</em> pick up on the subtle (very gay) signal.</p><p class="p1">Adora mentally shook herself; she already <em>knew </em>Catra wasn’t into girls, or <em>anyone</em>. Whatever happened at the dance was just some weird power play, or the 4Loko playing with Adora’s head. Possibly other parts of her, too.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Cough, cough. </em>
</p><p class="p1">Either way, the signal was clearly not received. Adora decided to put those weird, over-imaginative ideas into a little box and shove it into a dark corner of her mind. It was better to focus on being friendly, rather than daydreaming about…whatever <em>that </em>was. Though with Catra here, in the flesh, it was hard not to wonder just a little.</p><p class="p1">Or judging by how much mental labor she’d been putting into the topic lately, it was hard not to wonder <em>a lot.</em></p><p class="p1">“Anyway, <em>I</em> had some ideas for the project,” Adora blurted, the hint of a blush creeping across her cheeks.</p><p class="p1">Catra grunted and waved a hand for her to continue.</p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1">Being Adora and all—over-prepared as ever—she pulled a handwritten flowchart from her backpack and held it up with a goofy grin.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Of course. </em>
</p><p class="p1">Catra tried to listen (mostly) as Adora explained her idea—they should definitely do the essay rather than the powerpoint because then they wouldn’t have to practice presenting, crap like that—but the waves of anxious nausea rolling around in her gut screamed for attention.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Should I say something? Should I tell her? </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>No, don’t be an idiot.</em>
</p><p class="p1">“Catra, can you come sit next to me? It’s easier to look over my flowchart that way,” Adora said, gesturing to an empty seat at her side.</p><p class="p1">After a moment’s hesitation, Catra got up and stiffly moved to the chair, landing more heavily than intended. She immediately felt a blush crawling up her neck—she tugged on the strings of her hood and pulled it tighter around her face, hiding as much skin as possible.</p><p class="p1">The heat that Adora always seemed to radiate soaked through the hoodie, sending pinpricks of sweat rising across Catra’s chest. Despite being a hot sleeper, Adora’s warmth had never bothered her when they were kids, but something felt so <em>different</em> now. Rather than comfort and safety, Adora’s body carried an air of mystery; a hint of the unknown.</p><p class="p1">Breathing normally was suddenly impossible, try as Catra might to time her breaths to the beats of Adora’s blathering. When she did manage to suck in some air through her nose, the gentle, familiar scent of laundry and grass was overwhelming.</p><p class="p1">“Catra?” Adora was looking at her all of a sudden, brow creased. “Are you okay?”</p><p class="p1">Catra blinked hard and willed herself to focus. “I’m fine. Just hungover.”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Not technically a lie.</em>
</p><p class="p1">Adora’s frown deepened considerably. Her lips parted, on the verge of saying something, but then she closed them and continued to stare with concern.</p><p class="p1">“What? Sometimes I drink at the Horde house.” <em>Or a lot. </em></p><p class="p1">“Really?” Adora tilted her head, confused. “But didn’t you think they were kinda, ah…” She lowered her voice and leaned in, her proximity sending a rush of adrenaline through Catra’s body. She discovered that yes, a heart can <em>actually </em>skip a beat, and that it was scary as shit.</p><p class="p1">“Kinda what?”</p><p class="p1">“…dicks?”</p><p class="p1">Catra erupted into shocked laughter, and Adora quickly joined in. “I can’t believe you curse so much now. You used to be so <em>prudish</em>. Adora, the goody-goody.”</p><p class="p1">Adora rolled her eyes and softly elbowed Catra’s side, smirking. “And <em>you </em>didn’t used to drink so much.”</p><p class="p1">Though it was obviously a half-assed joke, Catra stiffened, immediately drawing an embarrassed look from Adora that she quickly covered with a brittle smile. She shifted away slightly, taking the comfortable heat with her, and Catra felt its absence like the loss of a safety blanket.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Christ, get it together. </em>
</p><p class="p1">Catra spoke quickly to brush past the joke, feigning a casual tone. “The Horde dudes aren’t <em>that </em>bad.” When they weren’t hitting on her or trying to ply her with more booze than she signed up for, that is—but free was free. “Besides, Kyle, Lonnie, and Rogelio are there. I hang with them sometimes.”</p><p class="p1">Adora cocked an eyebrow and rested her head on a hand, looking at Catra with disbelief. The flowchart lay forgotten on the table. “Really?”</p><p class="p1">“Uh, yeah.” <em>Okay, not really, but sometimes I wave at them or whatever. </em></p><p class="p1">“Are any of them dating each other yet, or what?” Adora muttered, thoughtful. “I always expected two of them to couple up eventually...”</p><p class="p1"><em>Uh, what? </em>“I don’t know for sure, but I think the <em>three </em>of them have some sort of thing.”</p><p class="p1">Adora blushed, her eyebrows flying high. “Damn. That makes total sense.” She shifted awkwardly in her chair, eyes suddenly glued to the flowchart. She was silent for a few moments. “What about you?”</p><p class="p1">Catra’s heart nearly stopped. “What do you mean?”</p><p class="p1">“You knoooow,” Adora mumbled softly, rubbing circles on the table with a thumb. “You dated at all?”</p><p class="p1"><em>WHAT. </em>“Whoa, fuck no. Nope.” <em>Damn, that sounds angry</em>. <em>Damage control. </em>“I mean, you know I’m not into that.” <em>Wait. Shit!</em></p><p class="p1">“Oh. Right.”</p><p class="p1">“Uh, and you?” <em>Fuck. Fucking shit.</em></p><p class="p1">“N-no, me neither,” Adora burst out, frantically shaking her head. “I’m always so busy, you know, and—”</p><p class="p1">“Right, yeah, me too,” Catra quickly cut in. The two of them hummed, nodding at each other, probably looking like a couple of crazy people.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Hold on a second.</em>
</p><p class="p1">Catra was overtaken by the sudden urge to lay her cards on the table—well, not all of them, but some. Maybe. She cleared her throat and filled her lungs with musty library air, nearly sick with dread, but sure that <em>something </em>needed to be said about Friday. At the very least “my bad, that was wack,” and at best a foot in the door to seeing if Adora <em>was </em>open to the possibility of…<em>that, </em>as unlikely as it was. Catra had to know, because…</p><p class="p1">Because she’d spent nearly all of Saturday mulling over the memory of Adora in front of her, wrapped in her arms. It was impossible to not agonize over the look on Adora’s face, or her outburst in the bathroom. At the time she’d clocked Adora’s expression as shock, or anger, but the more Catra thought it over, the more she imagined that maybe there was <em>interest </em>in there somewhere—an <em>openness</em>. And Adora had just asked if she’d <em>dated, </em>so…</p><p class="p1">Catra reminded herself that such a random, invasive question wasn’t too out of the blue for her, though. Exhibit A: asking if Catra was wearing underwear before even saying hello. Adora really hadn’t changed much at all—that mouth of hers was still as unfiltered as ever.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Focus.</em>
</p><p class="p1">At the very least, she could clear things up a little, if only to prevent even more bullshit from hanging in the air between them. No matter what Catra did, Adora was always being so <em>nice. </em>It was only fair to repay her patience with some honesty.</p><p class="p1">Right?</p><p class="p1">“Uh, Adora, so—”</p><p class="p1">“Crap, hang on.” Adora pulled her phone out and cursed under her breath. “Jeez, I didn’t realize what time it was. I gotta go to work.” She grabbed her notebook, rose from the table, and slung her backpack on. “We can meet, uh—how about Tuesday after six?”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, sure. Sounds good.” Disappointment sunk its claws deep into Catra’s chest, but she maintained a neutral look—or tried.</p><p class="p1">Adora hesitated. She reached out and placed a featherlight grip on Catra’s shoulder, gently rubbing with her thumb. “You sure you’re good?”</p><p class="p1">Catra’s eyes darted from the hand to Adora’s wide, earnest eyes, and nodded. With a final, slight smile, Adora turned and left.</p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1">Adora stared glumly at the stream of construction workers flowing in and out of the library doors, cursing her luck; she and Catra were supposed to meet in ten minutes to work on the project, but that was obviously a no-go. She texted Catra (who hadn’t yet arrived, late as ever), asking what she wanted to do, hoping that the reply would come soon so she wouldn’t have to stand outside of the library for an hour looking like a dumbass.</p><p class="p1">“Pain in the ass, huh?”</p><p class="p1">Adora spun to the voice next to her, then smiled. “Lonnie! Long time no see. Yeah, pain in the ass is right—I dunno who thought it was a good idea to do all this <em>right now.</em>”</p><p class="p1">Her old friend glowered at the library, a stack of textbooks in hand. She smelled vaguely of blended fruit. “I know, right? I go to class in the morning, bust my ass making smoothies for a few hours, come straight here, and can’t even study.” With a sigh, she turned to Adora and pursed her lips. “You working on midterms too?”</p><p class="p1">“Nah, me and Catra have a project together for a class—”</p><p class="p1">“<em>Catra? </em>Is she—” Lonnie paused, seeming to carefully weigh her words. “Uh, how is she?”</p><p class="p1">Adora frowned. Something in Lonnie’s tone—cautious, scared?—sparked a low flame of unease. “I thought you guys hung out. Um, at the Horde house?”</p><p class="p1">Lonnie hesitated more than long enough to make Adora suspicious. “Sure, I guess. She’s there a <em>lot </em>actually.” She paused. “Like <em>a lot, </em>a lot.”</p><p class="p1">Adora’s phone buzzed, but she barely felt it. Pieces fell into place deep in her mind, hints forming an idea she’d been mulling over since the house party well over a month ago.</p><p class="p1">Catra knew how to <em>drink, </em>that much was clear from the horrible chugging game they’d played together at the frat house. Adora faintly remembered a lot of beer cans piled in the trash in Catra’s bedroom later that night; then at the Halloween party, she’d downed several mouthfuls of whatever liquor was in her water bottle like it was nothing, <em>and</em> she was hungover when they briefly met on Sunday.</p><p class="p1">Now Catra was apparently at the Horde house <em>a lot</em>, not “sometimes” as she’d said. A dark thought coalesced like a thundercloud, try as Adora might to will it away and tell herself that she was reading too deeply into things.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Does she…have a drinking problem?</em>
</p><p class="p1">“Adora?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, one sec,” Adora muttered, finally glancing at her phone.</p><p class="p1"><b> <em>Catra: </em> </b> <em>just come to my place, im still home</em></p><p class="p1"><em>Of course she hasn’t even left yet. </em>Adora snorted, amused, though she still felt unsettled. “I gotta go, Lonnie. See you later?”</p><p class="p1">Lonnie nodded and readjusted her grip on her books so she could give a small wave. “Yeah, no problem. Good luck on your project.”</p><p class="p1">They parted, Lonnie walking deeper into campus while Adora started off towards town. Her hands shook with anxiety as she texted back, though she resolved to think about the <em>drinking</em> thing at a later time.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>&gt; What about your roommates?</em>
</p><p class="p1"><b> <em>Catra: </em> </b> <em>it’s fine. scorpias on a date and entrapta stays in her room</em></p><p class="p1"><b> <em>Catra: </em> </b> <em>unless you don’t want to?</em></p><p class="p1">Adora hurriedly texted that no, it was definitely fine—the idea of being basically alone in a room together just sent a tingle up her spine, that’s all, though she certainly didn’t text <em>that.</em></p><p class="p1">No big deal. All those <em>feelings </em>that, once recognized, had been flooding in at every opportunity were <em>supposed</em> to be in a nice mental box. With a big frigging lock on it.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Then why did I ask her if she dated anyone?</em>
</p><p class="p1">When she finally got to Catra’s dingy apartment complex, Adora’s hand froze an inch from the door.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Don’t bring it up. Don’t do it. She seems fine, I’m probably just overthinking it. Lonnie didn’t say she got trashed, or anything, just that she was there. </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>A lot.</em>
</p><p class="p1">Adora knocked and waited a beat, then two, before knocking again.</p><p class="p1">“All right, all right,” came a low voice from inside. The door opened to Catra in the same black hoodie and hot sauce boxer combination she’d worn on Sunday, so unless she had done laundry, or was just really gross, that meant that she <em>must </em>be wearing underwear underneath them.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Why am I so stuck on that?</em>
</p><p class="p1">“You coming in, or?” Catra asked, snapping Adora back to the present. She nodded and stumbled in.</p><p class="p1">The apartment was still run-down and rough around the edges, but there were no more moving boxes and most things had a place. There was a large stain outside on the carpet in front of Catra’s door that hadn’t been there last time, though—<em>weird.</em></p><p class="p1">Catra waved her into the bedroom and shut the door behind them. It looked like she’d cleaned (a little), judging by the trashcan filled to the brim with beer bottles and the hint of a shoved-aside clothes pile peeking out of the closet. The thought of Catra cleaning up just for her filled Adora with warmth even as a sickly sense of unease crept through her gut—there were a <em>lot </em>of bottles in the trash…</p><p class="p1">“You want the desk? I can sit on the futon,” Adora offered, already slinging her backpack off and settling into a cross-legged sit before waiting for an answer. Catra grunted, pulled the desk chair out, and sat facing her.</p><p class="p1">The first thing Adora did was look for the mystery drawer that had eluded her a month or so ago—upon spotting it, tucked beneath the desk and against the wall, she glared for a split second before unzipping her backpack to grab her laptop.</p><p class="p1">Catra flipped open a tablet and grabbed a sticky note from off the wall that she handed to Adora. “WiFi.”</p><p class="p1">“You have a tablet?” Adora asked, opening her laptop and connecting to the network (SUPERPALTRIO, password "wedabest"). There were a few assignments she needed to submit before she could focus on the project, and she needed some time to collect her thoughts. Otherwise, words that she didn’t want to say might fly out of her mouth without warning, which was always a recipe for disaster with Catra.</p><p class="p1">“Uh, yeah.” Catra frowned as she tapped at the tablet. “Why?”</p><p class="p1">“I’ve never seen you use it in class.” Adora hit <em>submit </em>on an essay and thought for a moment. “Or take notes at all, actually.”</p><p class="p1">Catra smirked and raised an eyebrow. “You watch me?”</p><p class="p1">“N-no! I mean whenever I <em>have </em>looked, I don’t see you writing.”</p><p class="p1">“Uh-huh.”</p><p class="p1">Now that they were talking—well, mostly <em>she</em> was—Adora found she couldn’t stop. Her mind buzzed with the million things she’d wondered about since Catra appeared back into her life, namely—</p><p class="p1">“Catra, what’s your major?”</p><p class="p1">Clearly sensing a <em>conversation </em>coming, Catra set her tablet on the desk and gave Adora her full attention. “Organic chemistry.” She paused. “Guess that never came up, huh?”</p><p class="p1"><em>Wow, that’s cool. </em>“Why chemistry?”</p><p class="p1">“Money, why else?” was the quick reply, though from the blank look and dull tone, Adora knew her heart wasn’t in it.</p><p class="p1">“No minors?”</p><p class="p1">“Philosophy, actually.” Catra gestured vaguely with a hand. “That’s why…you know. Our class together.”</p><p class="p1">“<em>Philosophy?</em>” Adora blurted, perplexed. <em>That would be literally my last guess. </em>She nearly laughed before Catra silenced her with a look. “I mean, that’s cool. It’s cool stuff. Yay, thinking about things.”</p><p class="p1">Catra waited for a minute, watching Adora busily type at her laptop. “What else?”</p><p class="p1">Adora looked up, eyebrows raised. “Huh?”</p><p class="p1">“What else do you want to ask me? I know you’re thinking something.” She tapped the side of her head and grinned. “I can hear it bouncing around in all that empty space.”</p><p class="p1">Adora’s jaw dropped with an indignant cry as Catra cackled. She looked around for something to throw but found nothing nearby; instead, she leaned over and gently punched the other girl's shin.</p><p class="p1">“You’re so mean to me.”</p><p class="p1">“Tell me your question or I’m gonna <em>really </em>get mean.”</p><p class="p1">“Fine.” Adora sighed, submitting her last assignment and opening a word document dedicated to their shared project. “What’s with the glasses?”</p><p class="p1">That threw Catra for a loop. She blinked several times, pure confusion written across her face. “What… about them?”</p><p class="p1">“Like, when did you get them?”</p><p class="p1">“What kind of question is that?”</p><p class="p1">“I’m just <em>curious, </em>ooo-kay—” Adora started, voice shrill.</p><p class="p1">“Okay, okay, fuck, chill.” Catra chuckled. She slipped her glasses off and wiped the lenses on her hoodie as she went on. “I got them freshman year at the community college. Remember my, uh, grades? In high school?”</p><p class="p1">Adora <em>did </em>remember. While she was always had been the A+ student, Catra was more the B- at best, or C- at worst; she always pulled through, but she complained the entire time. “Yeah?”</p><p class="p1">“It’s because I couldn’t see.”</p><p class="p1">“No way,” Adora gasped. “You’re kidding!”</p><p class="p1">“I’m for real. I couldn’t see shit. Guess Weaver never noticed or… never cared,” Catra muttered. She sighed as she slid the glasses back on and picked her tablet up. “Are we gonna start now? It’s almost seven already, and I’m sure you’ve got shit you gotta do.”</p><p class="p1">“Uh, right! So if you remember the flowchart I showed you on Sunday,” Adora began, immediately noting Catra’s blank look that meant she certainly <em>did not</em> remember. “Okay, basically what I had in mind is like, a little book of our lives together.”</p><p class="p1">Catra’s face turned sour. “Shit, is that what you were talking about? Why don’t you just do it on your friends, or whatever, and I’ll just do…something else?”</p><p class="p1">“Catra.” Adora scooted a little closer, her hand brushing against Catra’s calf as physically emphasized her words. “If we do two separate ideas and have to connect them, that’ll take a lot more time. Plus, we’ll probably get points just for having a cool combined story right off the bat! Nobody else is gonna have something like that.”</p><p class="p1">Catra didn’t reply. Instead, her lips parted slightly, tongue snaking out to wet her lips as she continued to stare down at Adora, who looked back at her from between her knees. After a curiously tense moment, Catra crossed her legs—forcing Adora to scoot back slightly—and sucked in a breath, looking away. She gently clutched the tablet to her chest.</p><p class="p1">“So we’ll have to rehash all the Weaver shit, I guess,” she mumbled.</p><p class="p1">“…yeah.”</p><p class="p1">Adora had thought of a few key events that could be used for the narrative she had in mind—memories that could be interpreted via the texts they’d been reading all semester. And since Catra hadn’t really come forward with any input she had basically decided to take charge, which was fine. Adora often ended up leading group projects anyway.</p><p class="p1">“Wait, it’s almost seven…shit!” Catra yelled—she leapt from her chair and toward the door, grabbing her Vans off the floor. “I gotta do something. Come with me and we can talk on the way.”</p><p class="p1">“Catra, what—”</p><p class="p1">“Just <em>come on, </em>the store is gonna close!”</p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1">They did <em>not</em> talk on the way to the liquor store—mostly because Catra ignored Adora’s confused questions about their destination in favor of saving her breath for speedwalking.</p><p class="p1">Adora stopped short of the door, breathing evenly while Catra wheezed next to her. “Hey, I think Bow comes here! The Stinky Pinky, right?” She chuckled. “Gross.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, yeah, that’s great. One sec—I’ll be right out.” Catra pushed open the door and went straight for the beer fridge in the back of the store, hauling down a six-pack of Michelob Ultra, which was about as top shelf as her taste in beer got. She turned to head for the counter and rammed straight into Adora’s stomach; the blonde’s swift reflexes saved the six-pack from an untimely death on the floor.</p><p class="p1">“Catra! What are you doing?” Adora whispered, blocking the six-pack from the cashier’s sight with her body. “We’re underage!”</p><p class="p1"><em>We? That’s funny. </em>Catra nearly laughed at Adora’s old, <em>irritating </em>habit of thinking they were always in it <em>together. </em>“So? They don’t card here. I told you to wait outside.” Catra swiped for the six-pack, but Adora dodged. “What the hell did you think I was here for?”</p><p class="p1">“I dunno, <em>chips</em> or something!”</p><p class="p1">“Adora. Get out of my fucking way.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s a <em>Tuesday</em> night and we have an 8am class tomorrow, you shouldn’t even be drinking—”</p><p class="p1">Catra grit her teeth as her vision went hazy. She finally landed a firm grip on the six-pack, ripping it from Adora’s hands and nearly knocking a few of the bottles loose. “<em>Don’t. </em>Tell me. What to do. <em>Ever.</em>”</p><p class="p1">She blew past Adora, roughly bumping shoulders hard enough to make Catra’s teeth rattle, though the blonde barely budged. "Wait, I'm sorry—"</p><p class="p1"><em>Fucking built like a tree. </em>Though beyond annoyed, the thought ignited a low flame in Catra’s chest, mixing deliciously with the burning anger.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, DT, what’s up.” Catra unceremoniously dumped the six-pack on the counter, bottles rattling. From the corner of her eye she could see Adora trying to hide in the chip aisle.</p><p class="p1">“Michelob? Special occasion, then. And who’s your friend, kitten?” DT asked as they scanned the pack and took Catra’s debit card, leering over the counter. Catra glanced back at Adora, who immediately ducked out of sight with a crash—she probably knocked over a display of Hot Cheetos or something.</p><p class="p1">“We’re on a project together for a class.” Catra narrowed her eyes at DT’s smirk as they swiped her card and handed it back. “What?”</p><p class="p1">“She’s cute.”</p><p class="p1">“<em>Good</em>bye!” Catra nearly shouted, snatching the six-pack from the counter and clutching it to her chest. DT’s laughter followed her out of the store, joined by Adora—red-faced and sweaty—a moment later.</p><p class="p1">Lightning fast, Adora slipped out of her jacket, yanked the six-pack from Catra’s hands, and swaddled it.</p><p class="p1">“What the fuck?”</p><p class="p1">“<em>Cops, </em>dude,” Adora scolded, quiet though they were alone on the street. “We shouldn’t be walking around with this.”</p><p class="p1">Catra barked out a laugh. “You and your ‘we.’ You know, I’ve done just fine on my own, <em>thanks</em>.”</p><p class="p1">Adora looked hurt, but she resolutely clutched the bundle to her chest as they walked. Catra might have considered snatching the six-pack back to prove a point, but having the free labor was kind of nice.</p><p class="p1">Adora was apparently contrite enough to hold her tongue until they arrived back at the apartment door.</p><p class="p1">“Catra, wait.” She reached out as if to grab Catra’s hand on the doorknob, but held back from actually touching. “Can we talk?”</p><p class="p1">“No.”</p><p class="p1"><em>“Catra.” </em>Adora followed her into the bedroom, unwrapping the six-pack and setting it down on the desk; Catra immediately slipped a bottle from the pack and popped the cap off using the desk’s edge. She took a long sip, pointedly ignoring Adora’s open-mouthed glower. Dark patches of nervous sweat marked Adora’s compression shirt, outlining her muscles and chest in the most <em>irritating </em>way.</p><p class="p1">“Catra!”</p><p class="p1">“<em>What?</em>” she barked, spinning to face Adora head-on.“You know what, I don’t wanna hear it. If we have to talk about Weaver for this shit, then I’m <em>drinking. </em>Maybe you should chill the fuck out and have one too.”</p><p class="p1">Adora’s eyes followed Catra as she thumped down on the futon, nursing the bottle. Numbly, Adora grabbed a bottle of her own from the pack and sat beside Catra, (somehow) twisting the no-twist cap off like it was nothing.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Was she tailor-made for lesbians in a fucking lab or something? </em>
</p><p class="p1">A torrent of mixed emotions ripped through Catra, threatening to boil over at the drop of a pin; in the moment, she hated Adora for acting like she always had; paternalistic, patronizing, even controlling. What Catra did with her free time, who she hung out with, literally anything personal? That was none of Adora's business. She’d forfeited the right to be concerned a long, long time ago.</p><p class="p1">Still, they’d been here before, so many times, and Catra couldn’t help but feel almost nostalgic over the familiarity, irksome as it was.</p><p class="p1">They sat basking in tension for a moment before Adora tried again.</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry, but I'm just worried—”</p><p class="p1">“Save it, Adora,” Catra growled. “Now let’s <em>start </em>the fucking project already.”</p><p class="p1">“All right.” With a sigh, Adora hauled her laptop onto her lap, carefully holding the beer steady on the floor beside it. “I thought we could each write about a few memories that are important to us—both of us—and sort of view them from both sides.”</p><p class="p1">Catra merely grunted and gestured with the beer, signaling for Adora to continue.</p><p class="p1">“I think I’ll start with when we first met.” Adora took in a deep breath, blew it out, and began.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Adora? Come in here, please,” Weaver called from the living room. Adora put down her toy—a firetruck, red paint chipped with age—and toddled to Weaver’s side, looking up at her with a smile that Weaver didn’t return. There were two other adults in the room, both women, unfamiliar and dressed fancy; behind their legs huddled a vaguely child-shaped form.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“There’s someone I want you to meet, Adora,” Weaver said. At that, the two women bade their goodbyes and left through the front door; the child behind them fled behind the couch.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“This is Catalina. She’s going to live with us, now. Catalina? Come here.”</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>The child didn’t come; instead, she peeked above the arm of the couch then crouched down again, though her wild, curly hair clearly gave her away. Weaver took Adora’s hand and brought them both closer—the other girl tried to run, but Weaver landed an iron grip on her wrist that held her fast. She immediately spun and bit down, drawing a gasp from the woman, and darted off deeper into the house.</em>
</p><p class="p1">“Good start,” Catra scoffed, laying the sarcasm on thick. “You trying to make Bow’s dad cry?”</p><p class="p1">“It’s the truth, isn’t it?”</p><p class="p1">“I guess, but…” Catra paused, eyes glued to her beer. “You won’t…we don’t have to write about my parents, right?”</p><p class="p1">“No. We don’t.”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>While Weaver stomped to the bathroom in search of antiseptic, Adora wandered the house looking for the new girl. She was under Adora’s bunk, crying quietly. </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Adora crouched down, but kept space between the two of them when the girl flinched. </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Hi. I’m Adora.” She reached out a chubby hand that the other girl didn’t take or look at, so she pulled it back. “You’re Cata—uh, Catla—Cat…I can’t say it right.”</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“That’s okay,” the girl replied after a moment, struggling to speak through her soft whimpers. “Me neither.”</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Adora’s face brightened. “Do you like nicknames? I can give you one. I gave all the other kids ones, too!” </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Okay…”</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“How about…Cat?” The girl scrunched her nose and frowned as she shook her head, ironically looking very much like a cat. “Or Lina? No? Um…Catra?” </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>It came out more like Ca-twuh, but the girl under the bed perked up slightly. Adora grinned.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Okay, Catra then! I like it. It’s pretty.” Adora slowly reached out a hand; Catra took it after a slight pause, allowing herself to be drawn out from under the bed. Hand in hand, Adora gently pulled Catra toward the door.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Weaver stepped into the doorway just then, arms crossed, a slightly bloody bandage wrapped around her hand. “Adora, go play in the other room. I’d like to speak with Catalina alone.”</em>
</p><p class="p1">“And I don’t really remember what happened after that,” Adora said, draining the rest of her beer and setting it aside.</p><p class="p1">“I do,” Catra murmured. She stared down at the beer in her hand—already halfway through her second—before turning her gaze to Adora. “You told her to call me Catra, then you left, and... she slapped the shit out of me for biting her.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry,” Adora whispered. “I never knew that.”</p><p class="p1">“Do you remember <em>that </em>night? Like a week later?”</p><p class="p1">Adora winced—<em>that </em>memory came clear enough, but Catra was already talking.</p><p class="p1"><em>No matter long Catra cried, the tears didn’t stop coming. The blanket was itchy, the pillow too thin, and it was so </em>hot. <em>I</em><em>t felt like she’d been there for hours, whimpering, sweating, and afraid, much as she was every night that she’d lived in this house so far.</em></p><p class="p1">
  <em>When bedtime came every night, she merely glared at the other children before climbing into her assigned bunk and muffling her weak cries with the blanket, waiting for exhaustion to knock her out.<br/></em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>The blonde girl—Adora—always tried to talk to her, but it was no use. Catra would rather disappear from existence than have someone see her like this, weak and pitiful, crying out night after night for comfort that would never come.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Still, the memory of Adora’s kindness when they first met tiptoed around in the back of Catra’s mind. Sniffling, she rolled over to peek down at the girl sleeping in the bunk beneath her, mouth wide open and snoring quietly. Suddenly the craving for human touch was overwhelming; a whimper escaped before Catra could smother it, and Adora’s eyes cracked open.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Catra?” Adora sat up slightly, squinting in the darkness. “Are you okay?”</em>
</p><p class="p1">After draining her third beer and placing it with the other empty bottles at her side, Catra looked Adora right in the eyes.</p><p class="p1">“You convinced me to sleep in your bunk. Weaver came in for a bed check and found us. She threw me onto the floor, and—”</p><p class="p1">“And I asked her to stop,” Adora cut in quietly. “Which she did.”</p><p class="p1">“Right. That time.” With a groan, Catra stood and went for the last beer—her fourth. Adora still hadn’t finished her second. “You realize what this is gonna sound like to Bow’s dad, right?”</p><p class="p1">“Huh?”</p><p class="p1">“You, playing the hero our whole lives, and me, getting cosmically fucked by the universe.” Catra chuckled darkly and sat on the desk, using the corner to pop off the bottle cap. “Works out nice for you, doesn’t it?”</p><p class="p1">“It wasn’t like that—”</p><p class="p1">“Like <em>what? </em>I was getting my <em>ass </em>handed to me, Adora, for <em>years—</em>”</p><p class="p1">Adora shot to her feet unsteadily, fists balled at her sides. “Weaver did shit to me too, Catra! I just didn’t—I didn’t <em>disobey</em> as much!”</p><p class="p1">With a growl, Catra shot forward and grabbed a handful of Adora’s shirt, dragging her close enough to see her pupils go wide. “I was a <em>fucking </em>kid! I was barely three fucking years old!”</p><p class="p1">“I didn’t mean it like that,” Adora groaned, reaching for Catra’s shoulder. Her hand met only air as Catra let go of her collar and backed into the desk, sucking in deep, rasping breaths.</p><p class="p1">“We’re done for today,” Catra muttered. “You write your take, I’ll write mine.”</p><p class="p1">“Catra—“</p><p class="p1">“We’re <em>done. </em>I want you to leave. Right now.”</p><p class="p1">On the verge of tears, lips trembling, Adora hurriedly packed her things and fled. The front door shut behind her with a dull click.</p><p class="p1"><em>Fuck her. </em>Catra leaned heavily against the desk, eyes scanning her room for more beer, but the six-pack was finished. A haze lay thick over her thoughts, but she found a moment of clarity and sighed, immediately slapped by regret.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>No. No. That was too far. You didn’t need to act like that.</em>
</p><p class="p1">Catra hated the comfortable anger she felt, but its familiarity couldn’t be ignored; if she tried to work through it, to reason with it, there was no way to know who she’d be—how she would feel.</p><p class="p1">For now, though, she was sure that love and hate were twin emotions, and whenever she felt one of those emotions for Adora, the other was amplified as well. As angry as she was, the urge to run after Adora was intoxicating, but Catra suppressed it in favor of letting the wave of self-loathing continue to wash over her.</p><p class="p1">Catra heard the front door open again; she leaned forward to see into the living room, hoping for—and fearing—the sight of Adora, but found Scorpia and Perfuma instead.</p><p class="p1">“Uh, Wildcat?”</p><p class="p1">“<em>What.</em>”</p><p class="p1">“Is everything okay?” Perfuma asked softly after a pleading look from Scorpia. “We saw Adora on our way in—”</p><p class="p1">“It’s fine,” Catra spat. “We’re just working on a project.”</p><p class="p1">Before either of the girls in the living room could reply, Catra slammed her door. Entrapta’s excited voice suddenly filtered in; that was good. She’d distract Scorpia and Perfuma from whatever uninformed, nosey discussion they were probably about to have regarding Catra’s <em>personal life. </em></p><p class="p1">Nobody but Adora could even begin to understand—not even the other foster kids. Adora had been the golden child, a future model citizen, while Catra was the bottom of the barrel, fit only to be fed and clothed because <em>Adora </em>was fond of her, as Weaver had so often made clear. In the years since, Catra sometimes wondered if she’d be buried in a ditch somewhere, the victim of some freak “accident” were it not for Adora’s <em>protection </em>all those years. Knowing Weaver, anything was possible. It wasn't like she hadn’t made threats along those lines. Several times.</p><p class="p1">What hurt Catra the most was knowing that, all along, she had been carrying far more than a platonic admiration and obsession with Adora, her keeper and protector, the girl who clearly saw her as a weakling, a victim, someone who <em>disobeyed</em> to this day. The twisted, rotten love Catra felt, once recognized, was undeniable; it screamed to be heard. She didn’t want to listen, but the knowledge couldn’t be shut away, either—so it ached, and ached, and ached.</p><p class="p1">How was Catra supposed to stay angry at Adora when all she wanted was to be held by her? How could she work through those confusing, horrifying feelings of tenderness when everything the blonde did <em>pissed her off?</em></p><p class="p1">
  <em>This project is going to fucking kill me.</em>
</p><p class="p1">Seething, burning, tears already running down her face, Catra hunched over on the futon and wept for the years gone by, and for what else she’d have to relive next before this bullshit excuse for an assignment was done with. Most of all, she cried out for fear of what she and Adora would reveal to each other.</p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1">“Adora? You okay, bro?”</p><p class="p1">Bow had been in the middle of unlocking the front door when Adora charged past him and went straight into the bathroom, waving off his concerned, prying questions in favor of slamming the door in his face and turning on the sink full blast.</p><p class="p1">The water was painfully cold as Adora splashed her face over and over, but the chill helped flush away the fire burning under her skin.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Stupid, stupid, stupid. I can’t believe I said that shit to her. She probably hates me all over again.</em>
</p><p class="p1">With a final shaky breath, she shut the water off and toweled her face before opening the door.</p><p class="p1">“I’m fine, Bow,” she grunted, pushing past him and into the living room. She sat on the couch with a deep sigh. “Long day. That’s all.”</p><p class="p1">“Adora,” Bow said, voice calm, but a little pleading. He sat beside her and placed a warm hand on her shoulder. “Come on. What is it?”</p><p class="p1">“It’s this project, that’s all. I almost let myself think that working together on this could be a <em>good </em>thing, a <em>nice </em>thing, and then I just fuck it up anyway.” She angrily brushed a fresh tear away with her palm. “Now Catra’s pissed at me.”</p><p class="p1">“Did you guys talk about Friday? That might be part of it, too…”</p><p class="p1">Adora recoiled, frantically shaking her head. “No, hell no. Bringing up whatever <em>that </em>was would just…that’s an instant cue for Catra to lose her shit and run.”</p><p class="p1">Bow hummed, rubbing a hand on his stubbly chin. “You didn’t actually tell me why you were screaming at her in the bathroom, by the way.” Adora shot him a stormy look; he held his hands up defensively. “Hey, I’m just saying. Maybe I could help if I actually knew what the fuck happened!” He paused, squinting. "Also, what's up with your eyebrow?"</p><p class="p1">“Dude, I<em>—</em>”</p><p class="p1">“Good, you’re both here!” Glimmer cut in, rounding the corner from her room. “Thought I heard voices. I had a great idea for my senior thesis, and I wanted your opinions!”</p><p class="p1">“Glimmer, this isn’t really—”</p><p class="p1">“It’s fine,” Adora barked, cutting Bow off with a firm wave of the hand. “What is it, Glimm?”</p><p class="p1">“Uh.” Suddenly Glimmer took stock of the scene before her—Bow, staring at her imploringly with a loose grip on Adora’s shoulder, who must have looked on the verge of tears. “Are you…sure?”</p><p class="p1">“Yep.” Adora gave a limp thumbs up and the ghost of a smile, blinking away the wetness in her eyes. Glimmer seemed unconvinced, but she and Bow both should have known by now if Adora didn’t want to talk about something, she <em>was not </em>going to talk.</p><p class="p1">With a shrug, Glimmer fell onto the couch next to Bow, slinging an arm casually around his shoulders with such comfortable familiarity that Adora’s heart ached. The number of times Adora—or Catra—had loosely rested an arm around each other’s shoulders or waist were uncountable. Distantly, she realized that they hadn’t so much as <em>hugged </em>in the last three years; a fresh wave of tears brimmed in her eyes, but luckily Glimmer was already talking.</p><p class="p1">“So! You guys remember that wack-ass Horde party back when school started? Well, you probably can’t forget, seeing as…” Glimmer coughed, gesturing vaguely towards Adora.“The whole Catra thing. <em>Anyways. </em>Those Horde guys were so creepy, with their haircuts and everything, that it gave me an idea!”</p><p class="p1">“And that is?” Bow asked warily.</p><p class="p1">“I can do my senior thesis on the frat culture here at the university; what makes the frats different, what makes them the same, shit like that. Maybe even uncover some juicy story!” She tightened her grip on Bow’s shoulders, making him wheeze a little. “And of course <em>your</em> wonderful house will be front and center as the picture of what Greek life <em>should </em>be, my darling Bow.”</p><p class="p1">“Guess I'll tell the guys,” Bow muttered.</p><p class="p1">“I dunno,” Adora sighed, absently picking at the callouses on her hands. “It sounds kind of sketchy. What if you ask about something they don’t wanna tell you? Some of them were like…<em>super </em>creepy.”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>And Lonnie said Catra’s there “a lot.” I know she can take care of herself, but…</em>
</p><p class="p1">“Oh, it’s <em>fine,</em>” Glimmer said. She rose from the couch, nervously fluffing up her bright hair. “Besides, I already told my advisor, and it’s official, so…oops.”</p><p class="p1">Bow and Adora turned to each other in disbelief for a moment before giving in to the absurdity of it all and dissolving into giggles. Bow rose from the couch and slung his arm around Glimmer, scrubbing his knuckles into her hair as she grumbled about not being taken seriously.</p><p class="p1">“So, dinner?” Bow said, laughing as he dodged a few half-assed punches from Glimmer. “I’ll throw on some eighties music, maybe a little Cher for Adora…”</p><p class="p1">Still chuckling, Adora’s grim mood further lightened up a little at the thought of music (Cher was <em>fire, </em>okay?) and a good meal with her friends, but the dark cloud of misery and regret hovered overhead. Her smile withered.</p><p class="p1">She followed Bow and Glimmer as they play-fought their way into the kitchen, wondering how the hell she and Catra were going to complete the project with any semblance of their friendship intact—what little of it was left. Seeing as few of their childhood memories were objectively <em>positive, </em>the road ahead was bumpy as all hell.</p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1">Adora was already seated and typing away at her laptop when Catra shoved open the door to the coffee shop, soaked to the bone with freezing rain. The shop was pretty packed with students, frantically chugging coffee as they typed on laptops or scribbled notes. An occasional flash of white lightning in the distance warred with the warm yellow lights strung along the walls.</p><p class="p1">She squelched up to the table and sat with a wet plop, shivering and shaking her hair out.</p><p class="p1">“You look dry,” Catra grunted, giving Adora a scathing once-over. She must have gotten a ride.</p><p class="p1">“Oh, Christ,” Adora blurted, taking in the wet mess before her with dismay. She started stripping off her red and white hoodie, the t-shirt underneath riding up slightly to reveal a glimpse of muscle dipping into the waistband of her jeans—</p><p class="p1">“What the hell are you doing?”</p><p class="p1">Adora stopped, one sleeve already off. “You can wear mine. It’s dry.”</p><p class="p1">“Mm, no thanks.” Catra gave her drenched hair one last shake before digging around in her messenger bag for a (slightly wet) notebook and plopping it on the table. She met eyes with Adora—now fully clothed again, thankfully, though also not thankfully because <em>damn </em>those <em>muscles</em>—and steeled herself with a deep breath.</p><p class="p1">“I wanted to pick the next one,” she said, flipping the notebook open to a page of scribbled notes. “Are you ready?”</p><p class="p1">Adora nodded solemnly—then she frowned. “Wait. Can I just say something?”</p><p class="p1"><em>Why is nothing easy? </em>“What?”</p><p class="p1">“I got you a coffee.” Adora gently slid the full cup—one of two—across the table. Catra took a tentative sip of the drink. Plain coffee with cream, no sugar; exactly what she’d always ordered in high school. She preferred iced Americanos now, but Adora had no way of knowing that.</p><p class="p1">“Thanks,” Catra muttered, taking another sip. She quirked an eyebrow. “Is that what you wanted to say?”</p><p class="p1">“Ah, no, I—” Adora took a deep breath and shut her laptop, folding her hands over its cover. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry for last week. I didn’t mean what I said about… about you <em>disobeying. </em>I didn’t mean it like that, but I still shouldn’t have said it. What Weaver did was horrible, and…”</p><p class="p1">A mysterious force possessed Catra’s hand, drawing it across the table. Her fingers ghosted across Adora’s pale knuckles, barely enough to be felt.</p><p class="p1">“Can we start now?” Catra asked gently. Adora tore her eyes from where they rested on Catra’s fingertips and nodded. She let out a shaky breath as the contact was withdrawn.</p><p class="p1">“Plus, this one is about <em>you. </em>So…don’t be so nice to me yet.”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Adora’s ninth birthday was in full swing—as "swing-y" as it could get in Weaver’s house, Catra supposed. The woman had made the other kids tidy up for a few hours before sitting down to dinner, and—if they had any luck—there might be cake after, though Catra had never cared much for sugar.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Catra glanced at Adora across the table, frowning. Her friend had such an odd look on her face, like something was bothering her, or she was sick. She was barely eating her food, and that was just unheard of.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> A swift kick to the shin under the table brought the light back into Adora’s eyes, though she used it to deliver a sharp glare at Catra. It was when Adora followed up with a slow shake of the head that Catra knew something was really up.</em>
</p><p class="p1"><em>After dinner—and no cake, to the dismay of the other children—Catra was assigned dish duty. She might have complained that she </em>always <em>seemed to get dish duty despite nearly hurling every time from touching the wet food, but she held her tongue for Adora’s sake.</em></p><p class="p1">“Dishes make you nauseous?” Adora asked, a grin playing at her lips. Clearly, she hadn’t realized what story this was yet.</p><p class="p1">“Whatever, shut up.”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>The dishes were nearly done when Adora approached. She tightly gripped Catra’s wrist, startling her, and leaned in close.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Can we talk outside?”</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Catra nodded and placed the last dish on the rack before following Adora onto the porch. The sun was down, but they were right in front of the house; Weaver probably wouldn’t get mad. Though, then again…</em>
</p><p class="p1"><em>“Catra?” Adora whispered. Tears suddenly streamed down her cheeks, dripping onto her pajama shirt. Instinct took over; Catra went in for a hug, though Adora turned away slightly. She always preferred to be giving rather than receiving comfort, even at moments like this—whatever </em>this <em>was, because Catra still had no idea what was wrong.</em></p><p class="p1">
  <em>They settled into a sit on the porch, gently rocking together as Adora wept quietly. Catra squeezed a little tighter, but it didn’t seem to help. “Adora, what is it?”</em>
</p><p class="p1">“Oh,” Adora mumbled. She absently traced the rim of her coffee cup with a fingertip, gazing into the liquid. When she looked up, her eyes were tight with pain. “Why this one?”</p><p class="p1">“You’ll see,” Catra said. She took a deep sip from her own coffee and went on.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Adora had to take a few shuddering breaths before she could answer. She spoke almost too quietly for Catra to hear, even though their faces nearly touched. </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“I asked Weaver about…um…”</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“What?” Catra shook her slightly, imploring her to go on. “Adora, spill it.”</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Wanted to do something for your birthday next time,” Adora muttered. </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Adora…”</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“But she said you wouldn’t even be here anymore.” Adora shivered. She wrapped a hand around Catra’s and squeezed it tight enough to hurt. </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Shock didn’t even being to cover it. Catra was floored, upended, torn apart—how could she not be here anymore? With Adora? What was Weaver going to do with her?</em>
</p><p class="p1">“Catra, stop.” Adora leaned back in her chair, brow creased in a deep frown. “What’s the point of this?”</p><p class="p1">“Excuse me?” Catra snapped, bristling. “What the fuck does that mean?”</p><p class="p1">Adora’s eyes went wide. She held up a placating hand. “No, I’m sorry—not like that. I meant that I remember the rest. Weaver didn’t do anything—”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, and she was <em>never going to</em>. She and I had a little talk later that night, when you were asleep.”</p><p class="p1">“You <em>what?</em>”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Catra had been staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours. She heard the quiet whimpers coming from below as Adora tossed and turned in her sleep. In that moment, one impulse rang clear; Catra took a deep breath and quietly lowered herself from her bunk, taking one last glance at Adora before leaving the room.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Weaver was in her office, shuffling some papers. She looked up in shock that quickly turned to anger as Catra walked in and stood in front of the desk, arms crossed and shaking, try as she might to hide it.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>The woman rose from her desk and came around to lean menacingly over Catra. Her fists were clenched—that was usually a promise of hell to come. “Why are you out of bed?” </em>
</p><p class="p1">“For once in my life, I stood up to her,” Catra muttered. She drained the last of her coffee and shivered at the warmth it brought to her icy skin. “I asked her what she was going to do with me.”</p><p class="p1">“And?”</p><p class="p1">“<em>And</em> she straight up said she was using me to keep <em>you </em>in line. That’s why she never did shit.” With a sigh, Catra combed her fingers through the tangles in her wet hair. “It was all bullshit mind games, dude. She never got rid of me because of <em>you.</em> Honestly, I’m not sure whether to thank you for that or not.”</p><p class="p1">“But—” Adora hesitated, reeling, grasping for a mental foothold. “Why didn’t you say anything? I believed her this whole time!”</p><p class="p1">“If I told you, you know what she would’ve done to me?” Catra shot back. “She would’ve killed me. You had to believe the lie because otherwise you wouldn’t have worked so hard to be so fucking <em>perfect</em> all the time!”</p><p class="p1">“Catra…” Adora reached out a hand that Catra dodged by shooting out of her chair, nearly knocking it over.</p><p class="p1">“I need another coffee.”</p><p class="p1">She rushed to the counter, barely registering the barista’s cheerful greeting as she brusquely ordered an iced Americano. She stood off to the side, waiting for her drink and trying not to steal glances at Adora, but failing spectacularly.</p><p class="p1">The blonde cradled her head in her hands, staring holes into the table. She was muttering something under her breath, shaking her head, then nodding. She looked positively insane; for a moment Catra wondered if she’d hit this nerve a little harder than intended.</p><p class="p1">When she got back to the table, coffee in hand, Adora looked up sheepishly. No tears, though—that was good. If she started blubbering, the whole shop would hear it. Catra had a lot of practice with stifling her own tears, a talent which Adora seemed to lack judging by the few times she’d actually cried in front of Catra.</p><p class="p1">“Catra, I didn’t know. I’m sorry for not—”</p><p class="p1">“Protecting me?” Catra chuckled, sipping at her bitter drink. “Yeah, maybe you weren’t as good at that as you always thought.”</p><p class="p1">The words landed like a slap, and Adora grimaced. A voice in the back of Catra’s head was telling her to do <em>something</em>, say <em>something,</em> but she couldn’t make out what the fuck it was. Something…not like this.</p><p class="p1">Sighing, Catra leaned onto the table and steepled her fingers. “Listen, I’m not…trying to make you feel bad. Or whatever. I just... do you <em>really</em> not get it?”</p><p class="p1">To her surprise, Adora nodded. Catra held her breath, already shoving down a surge of preemptive anger.</p><p class="p1">Slowly, Adora formed the words to voice whatever she was warring with internally. It came softly, a gentle breeze creeping in through a cracked window.</p><p class="p1">“Everything about you was actually about me.”</p><p class="p1">“…actually, yeah.” Catra bit her lip. Unbelievably, Adora had actually gotten the point—on her first try, no less.</p><p class="p1">Holding Adora’s soft, sympathetic gaze became too much, and Catra looked away. “Anyway, I thought we could write about that. That’s all.”</p><p class="p1">“Okay.” Adora slipped the laptop into her backpack and rose from the table. The customers had thinned out while they were talking; closing time was probably coming soon. “I’m gonna go. It’s movie night, and… I guess we’re done for now?”</p><p class="p1">“Oh. Yeah, sure,” Catra muttered, stuffing her notebook in her bag and trying to tamp down the disappointment in her voice. She wasn’t mad, not like last time, because Adora—oblivious, overthinking in all the wrong ways, tender Adora—had actually understood what Catra was trying to tell her. For once, she’d really listened. And then she was immediately leaving.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>For fuck’s sake.</em>
</p><p class="p1">“Well, you could come!” Adora’s phone was already in hand, her thumb swiping. “I think we’re watching The Mummy. I can ask—”</p><p class="p1">“Hey, no. It’s fine, I’ve got shit I gotta do.” <em>Haha, sure bud. Nothing to do on a Friday night besides hit up the Horde boys. </em>“Have fun.”</p><p class="p1">Adora took a step closer—well, it was also towards the door, but Catra could be a little self-centered. As a treat. “Maybe next time?”</p><p class="p1">“Maybe next time,” Catra echoed, but Adora was still standing there, looking down at her. Asking for something with her eyes. “Are you—”</p><p class="p1">“Can I hug you?” Judging by the (quite hilarious) look on Adora’s face, she <em>definitely </em>hadn’t intended to basically squeal the request.</p><p class="p1">Catra might have laughed if her mind wasn’t grinding itself into dust. Numbly, slowly, she nodded. Adora leaned down and wrapped her arms around Catra’s chest, lifting her from the chair by a few inches as she squeezed.</p><p class="p1">Laundry, grass. There was also a new scent, one that Catra had never gotten close enough recently to notice. Moisturizer.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Huh. Good for her. She was always so fucking ashy.</em>
</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry,” Adora whispered, her warm breath tickling the shell of Catra’s ear. She suppressed a pleased shudder by tensing her entire body, but Adora just squeezed tighter. “I know that things will probably never be the same, but I’m glad you’re here again.”</p><p class="p1">There were only so many words that came to mind as Adora pulled back, eyes tender but guarded, arms still loosely resting around Catra’s waist.</p><p class="p1">“That was…nice.”</p><p class="p1">Adora chortled, a relieved grin spreading across her face. A hand came up to paw at Catra’s chin. “Aw, I can’t believe you like me!”</p><p class="p1">“I do <em>not </em>like you,” Catra grunted, using all her willpower to push out of the embrace as Adora chuckled. “You’re an asshat.”</p><p class="p1">“No, you,” Adora snapped back, pointing and shooting a finger gun as she moved toward the door.</p><p class="p1">“Wha—that’s not even a good comeback,” Catra called after her, earning a last hearty laugh before Adora disappeared through the doors and into the rain.</p><p class="p1">Catra settled into her seat numbly and sipped her drink, mind wandering. She smiled slightly at the ghost of heat still lingering from where Adora’s arms and hands had touched.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>I can’t believe it, but I think we’re actually kind of okay. For once.</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>how are we feeling? drop a comment and let me know!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. promise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Adora plays a rugby game, everyone watches a movie, there's a bike ride, and Catra watches Adora eat a scone.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hoo boy i am SORRY for the delay but my whole state is like on fire rn so &lt;3<br/>if there are typos please forgive me, I edited this from like 2am-6am so we'll just have to see<br/>also: if you open a box of boxed wine, it's just a bag inside (surprise tool that will help us later)</p><p>also: i apologize in advance.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">The sky was nearly free of clouds for the first time in months. As the sun dipped below the horizon, streaks of orange and pink set the redwood forest alight and played over the damp grass that Adora rested on.</p><p class="p1">It would have been peaceful, if not for the stampede of feet churning the field into mud.</p><p class="p1">“<em>Run, bitch, run!</em>”</p><p class="p1">“I fucking <em>am!</em>”</p><p class="p1">Adora cackled maniacally from the sidelines as Glimmer sprinted, clutching the ball to her chest. She leapt over the goal line and scored with a triumphant shout, sweaty pink hair plastered all over her muddy face. A chorus of hoots and hollers went up from the other players—mostly crew girls and some of Bow’s frat brothers.</p><p class="p1">Glimmer passed out some high-fives before jogging over to Adora as everyone else took a break for water. “You jumping in at some point, or?”</p><p class="p1">“Naw, everyone gets heated when I play, you know that,” Adora mumbled with a dismissive wave of the hand. She wasn’t actually offended; having her on a team usually <em>did </em>make things a bit unbalanced.</p><p class="p1">“Maybe it’s because not all of us were star rugby players in high school, Miss She-Ra,” Mermista cut in as she strolled up, sipping a gatorade and smirking. Adora rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue, flipping Mermista the finger.</p><p class="p1">“Come <em>on, </em>Adora,” Glimmer whined, thumping heavily to the ground. “I never get to play against you!”</p><p class="p1">Mermista snorted. “She’d kick your ass.”</p><p class="p1">“Fuck you, bro.”</p><p class="p1">“Fuck your face, dude.”</p><p class="p1">“Okay, <em>okay, </em>you nutcases,” Adora interjected, laughing at the mock stand-off before her. “I’ll play in a minute, I swear. For now I’m just enjoying the show.”</p><p class="p1">Glimmer and Mermista walked off to rejoin the game, still bickering. Meanwhile, Adora laid flat on the grass and took a moment to soak in the pastel sky.</p><p class="p1">The semester was nearly over, but she was surprisingly calm. Finals were always scary, but most of her remaining assignments were already done or planned out. Crew practice was going smoothly again after her shitty start earlier in the semester, and the coming spring season seemed exciting again. She finally felt <em>ready.</em></p><p class="p1">Even things with Catra were calm, which Adora almost couldn’t believe. After meeting at the coffee shop—which nearly spiraled into another vicious argument, but luckily Adora realized she had her head up her ass <em>ahead of time</em>—things had been fairly mellow. They often chit-chatted before and after class, usually about the readings, or if Catra felt the need to make some snide remark about Adora’s choice in athleisure. Adora (very optimistically) took that to mean Catra was at least paying <em>attention </em>to how she looked. Kind of a compliment considering the source.</p><p class="p1">They’d even been <em>texting</em> here and there. Much to Adora’s delight, Catra had actually texted <em>first </em>sometimes, like when she saw a dude and two yaks walking alongside the highway and texted <em>what the fuck</em> <em>is up with this town </em>to which Adora had no reasonable explanation other than <em>it be like that sometimes</em> <span class="s1">¯\_(</span><span class="s2">ツ</span><span class="s1">)_/¯. </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Or when Catra sent student athlete memes at two in the morning, which were hilarious because plenty of girls on the crew team were <em>really like that </em>(not Adora, though—she hoped). And a few days ago, Catra sent a cool 80’s music video that was pretty catchy, though Bow and Glimmer caught her watching it and cracked up for five minutes straight—something about getting “rickrolled.” Adora had merely grinned and laughed along despite having no idea what that was.<br/></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">For days, Adora had been enamored by the idea that Catra was <em>thinking </em>about her when she wasn’t around. Plus, she was regularly adding her written portion of the project to their shared Google doc, which Adora was doubly thankful for.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">All in all, things were good. Adora <em>felt </em>good, a lot better than she’d felt in a long time—maybe even years. For once, all the thoughts and fears that raged continuously in the back of her mind gently wafted away under the chill winter breeze, leaving a calm sort of contentment behind. She was so relaxed that she nearly didn’t feel her phone buzz.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>Catra: </em> </b> <em>still down to work tonight?</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A chill ran up Adora’s spine—what came next would take skill, tenacity, and maybe a little bit of luck. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">&gt; <em>You know us student athletes STAY grinding so YES</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Humor was a good start, right?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>Catra: </em> </b> <em>lol ok there, roid rage lookin ass</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>Catra: </em> </b> <em>library is still fucked up with construction. my place?</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora took a deep breath and let it out slowly, mentally crossing her fingers. <em>Here goes nothing.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>&gt; How about mine? Bow and Glimmer wanted a movie night and I thought you could come</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>&gt; We could work after?</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>&gt; Unless you don't want to</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>&gt; Lmao</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>&gt; That would be totally fine too</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>&gt; Haha</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora groaned and softly smacked herself in the forehead. <em>Real skillful. Much tactics.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was no way Catra would want to come to movie night, especially with other people. Well, she’d said <em>maybe next time </em>when Adora had asked at the coffee shop, but—</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>Catra: </em> </b> <em>which movie</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Screaming internally, Adora hurriedly texted back.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>&gt; The Thing!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>&gt; The 80s one</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>Catra: </em> </b> <em>&gt;.&gt;</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>Catra: </em> </b> <em>&lt;.&lt;</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>Catra: </em> </b> <em>aight im down, what time</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Nearly vibrating from shock, Adora barely had time to text <em>meet me at the small campus field, talk there </em>before a very sweaty, muddy Glimmer hauled her by the collar into the rugby game, all to the tune of everyone chanting <em>SHE-RA, SHE-RA. </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There were a few tough plays; having Bow on her team was a serious advantage because they read each other like a book, but playing any sport against Mermista was risky—she was brawnier and ballsier than she looked, especially when her competitive side kicked in. She tackled Bow more than a few times before he learned to steer well clear of her, no matter the strategic cost. By this point most of the players had stripped down to the bare essentials, since washing mud from skin was a lot easier than getting it out of clothes. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The game was almost over, the score nearly neck and neck. Adora watched for an opening as she ran alongside Bow. He kept an iron grip on the ball, gracefully dodging a few tackles; after a final leap over Mermista, he deftly tossed the ball into Adora’s open arms. Heart thumping, legs kicking into gear, Adora pushed herself to the limit to reach the goal line without getting mauled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After roughly shoulder-checking an outraged Glimmer, she spotted Catra on the sidelines alongside Scorpia and Perfuma—holding hands, no less. Adora wouldn’t have objectively expected them to make a good couple, but they looked pretty cute together.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As for Catra, the late November weather was clearly working her over; she was swaddled in a puffy bomber jacket, her mane of hair tucked awkwardly under a black beanie. She’d also ditched the usual Vans for a pair of Doc Martens. Kind of an odd outfit—though Adora knew she was the last person who should give fashion advice—but somehow Catra made it <em>work.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Just to show off a little, Adora turned in Catra’s direction as she closed in on the goal line, waving her arms around—ball in hand—and pulling in a deep breath:</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“<em>Hey, Catra!</em>” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>—</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Now, I don’t mean to pry, but—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You really do, though.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Baby, can you tell her I don’t mean to pry?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You heard her, Wildcat. She don’t mean to pry.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Chuckling, Scorpia scooped Perfuma up in a tight hug, earning a squeal. Meanwhile, Catra wanted nothing more than to throw up her lunch, but that familiar feeling was easily shoved away in favor of shooting the overly-affectionate couple a sharp look. They’d been on her ass for weeks after Catra had basically kicked Adora out of the apartment right in front of them with zero explanation.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Seriously, Catra,” Perfuma said once she was safely returned to the ground, hand in hand with a beaming Scorpia. “All I’m saying is, if you want to talk, you can talk to me! Or anyone else at the GSA!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s what we’re for,” Scorpia added, tapping a temple with her free hand. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, I know. Community, advice, blah blah,” Catra muttered. She folded her arms, shivering against the chilly breeze. In the distance she could see what looked like a football game—though knowing Adora, it was probably rugby. Maybe reliving her high school glory days, Catra guessed, though Adora had clearly peaked <em>after </em>high school; despite no longer being under Weaver’s pressure to be <em>the best</em>, Adora was <em>still </em>excelling at sports, getting an engineering degree and <em>two </em>minors, had plenty of friends, and seemed happier than a pig in shit (as some would say—Catra certainly would).</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Still, sometimes she wondered if Adora was doing <em>too </em>much. Burning the midnight oil was in her nature, but...</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So <em>what, </em>Scorpia?” Catra groaned, folding her arms tighter. Luckily the crisp air had already reddened her face, otherwise… “The thing with me and Adora, it’s—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh so it’s a <em>thing </em>now—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I fucking hate your guts, bitch.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Love you too, buddy,” Scorpia shot back, chuckling as Perfuma flashed her an amused grin. Despite her “always cheery, all the time” demeanor, Scorpia almost always knew when Catra was <em>actually </em>pissed rather than just <em>pissy. </em>Perfuma had learned the same cues over the last few weeks, though she knew better than to chisel away at Catra’s sensitive spots the way Scorpia did—except for this one.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There were a few moments of blissful silence before Perfuma piped up again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So, what about your thing?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck, I <em>just </em>said—” Catra growled, stopping short to slowly take in a breath through her nose. She fought the urge to claw out her own eyes and tried for patience instead—no small feat. “We’re not—it’s not a thing. It’s nothing. She’s nothing.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Well, that sounds terrible.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Scorpia hummed, looking thoughtful. “Then I guess you’re just texting nothing, going to coffee with nothing, thinking about nothing when you just randomly zone out, seeing a movie with nothing—” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s for the fucking project!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Holy crap, look at them go,” Perfuma breathed as they reached the outskirts of the game. Jackets, coats, and backpacks were strewn off to the side; most of the players wore compression shorts, were shirtless, or in Adora’s case, the ever-present sports bra and loose jeans rolled up to the knee. Every player was coated in a thin layer of mud.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra followed the blur of bodies with her eyes, picking out the few folks she recognized: Adora, obviously, her muscles rippling as she darted back and forth; Bow trying his best to make strategic moves and immediately getting bodied by someone; plus a lot of randos. Catra sincerely hoped she wouldn’t have to meet any new people today because she had <em>not </em>signed up for that kind of emotional labor—for fuck’s sake, she’d already agreed to see a movie at Adora’s apartment without hesitation. Without <em>thinking. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">An apartment she shared with Glimmer, who was currently elbowing the shit out of someone hard enough to make Catra flinch.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That pink-haired can of worms, however, would have to be opened at a later date. Catra returned her attention back to the game right as Adora caught sight of her, running her ass off with Glimmer right on her tail. With a dramatic wave of the arms—still somehow holding the awkwardly-shaped ball—she pivoted as she ran, mouth opening wide for a yell. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Because <em>of course </em>Adora wanted to draw attention to Catra when she was perfectly content to stay anonymous to whomever else was playing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“<em>Hey, Catra!” </em>Adora bellowed, her grin wide enough to take up a bus seat.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Despite her annoyance at being called out, Catra blushed. She had barely raised a hand in greeting when Glimmer hit Adora from behind—<em>hard—</em>sending them both flying into the mud, the ball spinning straight into the air in the most cartoonish way possible. After a moment, Glimmer hauled herself up, legs wobbling.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Out of habit, a laugh at Adora’s expense bubbled up only to die on Catra’s lips when she saw that Adora <em>wasn’t moving. </em>A crowd of the other players started to form, blocking her sight. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, shit,” Scorpia muttered breathlessly, but Catra had already taken off at a sprint, her boots barely gaining traction in the churned-up mud. Someone was calling Adora’s name—after a moment of confusion, Catra realized <em>she </em>was the one crying out. She elbowed her way to the crowd’s center where Bow and Glimmer were already at Adora’s side, helping her stand on shaky legs. She tried to push them away and cried out, clutching her left arm to her side.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think it’s dislocated,” Bow muttered, gingerly pressing at Adora’s shoulder joint.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Glimmer was nearly in tears, her fingertips digging tightly into Adora’s bicep as she held the taller girl steady. “Adora, fuck, I’m so sorry—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Adora?” Catra breathed, hands held out but unsure what parts of Adora’s body were safe to touch without causing pain.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, howdy,” Adora muttered through clenched teeth. She raised her voice, injecting it with a cheerful tone, though strained. “Y’all see that? That was some <em>shit.</em>” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A chorus of awkward laughter went up from the other players as Adora stumbled out of the circle with Catra, Bow, and Glimmer right behind her, though pointedly not looking at each other.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Adora, stop,” Catra nearly shouted, running to plant herself in Adora’s path. “That shit looked fucking <em>bad. </em>You’re hurt, and—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nah, ‘m <em>fine.</em>” Adora suddenly locked her gaze on Scorpia a few yards away. “Hey! Big gal! Wanna do me a favor?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Scorpia gawped, eyes wide. “Huh?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“Plant your feet!</em>” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora took off, leaving Catra, Bow, and Glimmer standing open mouthed in her wake. Scorpia braced for impact, shoulder out, right as Adora launched herself—left arm first—into the much taller girl. It was like throwing a piece of paper at a rock; Adora bounced off and hit the ground with a thud, while Scorpia stood unmoved, looking more than a little confused.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, I think we’re done for today, y’all,” Bow called to the other players anxiously milling about as he jogged to where Adora was sprawled ass-up in the mud. “We’ll take care of this dumbass, no worries.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra felt a finger stab at her back; she turned and met eyes with a fairly tall, dark-skinned girl with deep green hair. “Uh, can I help you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re Catra, huh? I’m Mermista,” the girl said. She grinned, though Catra couldn’t tell if it was genuine or sardonic. “Heard a lot about you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wha—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Catra?” Scorpia called, helping Adora from the mud. Bow was busy chastising the blonde for whatever the fuck she’d just done, while Glimmer was three seconds from launching into hysterics. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra turned back to Mermista, but she’d already walked off in the other direction. With a groan, she jogged over to Adora, now standing with the aid of an arm slung around Bow’s shoulders. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s fine, I popped it back in,” Adora was saying, though Bow looked unconvinced. She decided to prove this by rotating her arm, only to immediately wince and suck in a gasp through her teeth.“Okay, it’ll be sore for awhile, but I’m good! Really.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’re going home <em>right now,</em>” Bow said. He turned to Catra and quirked an eyebrow. “You coming? I think we’re gonna need help with <em>this </em>one.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I invited her to movie night,” Adora cut in, shooting Catra a bashful look. “If she still wants to come.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Glimmer opened her mouth as if to object, but when she looked from Adora to Catra and back again, something flickered behind her eyes. She and Bow traded a quick glance before nodding at each other almost imperceptibly. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>What the fuck was that?</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Movie night it is, then,” Glimmer said, her voice shaky. “Catra? Can you grab</span>
  <span class="s1"> Adora’s stuff, please?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra spotted Adora’s shirt, jacket, and backpack on the grass; she scooped them up and turned to Perfuma and Scorpia with a sigh. “Uh…see you guys later?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sure, Wildcat. Catch ya then,” Scorpia replied, a little confused but smart enough to not pry (for once). She and Perfuma walked off, sneaking backward looks as they talked too low for Catra to hear.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora complained the whole way to Bow’s car, trying—and failing—to prove that her arm was fine. It seemed like she couldn’t lift it far above her shoulder, which was quickly turning red and puffy. Bow made the helpful suggestion of sliding her sports bra strap down so it wouldn't press on the swelling; Catra spent the day’s allotment of willpower forcing herself not to stare at the newly-exposed expanse of skin.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra thanked all the gods that had ever existed when Adora lightly pulled her along into the backseat; sitting next to Bow, or—God forbid—<em>Glimmer </em>probably would have given everyone involved a heart attack. Much as she didn’t want to talk to Glimmer about her mom, Catra was equally sure that she <em>had </em>to—not only for Glimmer’s sake, or the sake of whatever friendship with Adora was slowly growing—but for her own reasons. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Guilt was a poisonous, cancerous weight that settled over Catra at odd moments: falling asleep, messing around on her phone, taking the bus to school. When the weight of the past and present settled over her, it tainted everything she did. If she was a little grumpy with Scorpia early in the morning or if she snapped at someone standing too close in the checkout line, the guilt surged like a tidal wave, far more than it should have for such small things. The persona she’d crafted to survive—to survive <em>Weaver</em>—had turned against her, and the profound hatred she felt for that facet of her personalty was all-consuming.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">If the last few years (though if she was being honest, it was more like the last few <em>months</em>) had taught Catra anything, it was that she—maybe, just maybe—didn’t <em>have </em>to be that person anymore. She’d spent so long being reactive, cruel, lashing out at people for small things, and living with Weaver had never allowed her to take a step back and reckon with her own behavior. The progress was slow going, and she sometimes slipped back into her old habits, but working with Adora on the project had helped her take that step. She was forced to engage with the memories she’d spent so much time repressing, which was <em>terrifying </em>at first, but eventually she found the ordeal almost therapeutic. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">For now, Glimmer seemed neutral towards Catra, which was more than she could ask for and probably more than she deserved. She held the suspicion that this magnanimous behavior was for Adora’s sake more than out of any real desire for friendship, but that was good enough for now; Glimmer had to wait, because Adora needed a serious talking-to.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The same Adora whose lap she was nearly in because Bow had a <em>tiny ass car </em>and Adora clearly didn’t understand how huge her thigh muscles were, or what manspreading was (womanspreading?), or how flustered Catra felt when that dumbass rested a hand just a little too far up her thigh, saying something about—</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“—movie and then we work on the project. Sound good?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra suppressed a shiver and gave a jerky nod. Since that incredibly awkward (soft, nice) hug when they’d gotten coffee, Adora had almost immediately gone back to the touchy version of herself that Catra remembered all too well. Whenever she walked into their philosophy class (if she wasn’t late), Adora would shoot from her seat to talk to her. A pat on the shoulder here, a gentle punch on the hip there—classic Adora, probably expecting a classic Catra response of a shove or a snappy insult, but she physically <em>could not </em>act the way they used to when they were kids. She nearly had a heart attack every time Adora even came <em>close </em>to her. The thought of touching Adora back was just…terrifying.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She loved every moment of the renewed physicality between them, but being afraid of the affection she was desperate for was also driving her absolutely nuts. Even now, the subtle angles of Adora’s face brought out by the streetlights called to Catra’s hand; it would be so simple to draw a finger along that jawline—</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Catra? You okay?” Adora leaned into Catra’s space slightly, giving her thigh a tiny squeeze that nearly drew out a scream.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Through the fire raging in her blood, Catra managed to be sarcastic. “I’m the one who should be asking <em>you</em> that, idiot. You’re probably concussed.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Aww, you <em>care</em> about me!” Adora gushed, fluttering her eyelids dramatically. “I can’t believe you <em>like</em> me—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Keep talking and I’ll break that hand.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, okay,” Adora laughed, though she left her hand on Catra's thigh. “But my head is fine. Trust me, I know what a concussion feels like.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra sighed, rolling her eyes. “Of course you do.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After the short drive, Bow pulled the car over in front of an expensive-looking townhouse—definitely more flashy than what Catra imagined Adora would like, but no doubt right up Glimmer’s alley. As she gathered Adora’s crap and walked to the front door, the ancient, beat-to-shit VW bus in the driveway caught her eye. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Who owns that hunk of junk?” Catra whispered to Adora, nodding her head at the bus. “Don’t tell me it’s Glimmer’s.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s, uh, mine, actually,” Adora muttered. She smiled shyly as Catra gaped, obviously expecting an explanation. “A teammate of mine gave it to me when she graduated, but I don’t know anything about cars, so—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why don’t you just pay someone?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Um, well—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Home sweet home,” Bow chirped as he opened the door, gesturing for everyone to enter. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Glimmer smacked him on the arm with a chuckle. “You don’t even live here, bitch.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra snickered under her breath. Adora turned to her with the strangest smile, as if she’d received a long-awaited gift, but that was quickly forgotten once Catra took in the living room.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">First of all: shitload of pink, huge L-shaped couch, big-ass flatscreen. There was almost <em>too much </em>space, making Catra’s head spin. Compared to this, her apartment with Scorpia and Entrapta was a closet—a really, really small closet. She wondered how Adora could afford all of it; financial aid didn’t go <em>that </em>far, and she would <em>never </em>let Glimmer pay for her rent—</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We should clean up a little before we touch anything,” Bow announced, gesturing at his mud-covered body. Glimmer groaned and set off for her room while Bow ducked into a bathroom right off the living room. Catra was suddenly very curious as to just how large the townhouse was and how many bathrooms it could possibly have. Her three-bedroom apartment only had a single bathroom, which was usually fine—except when she knocked out in the shower, forcing Entrapta to pick the lock and wake her up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll be right back, ‘kay?” Adora said, right before jogging up the stairs and disappearing into what was presumably her room. Catra realized she was still carrying Adora’s shit; with a sigh and more than a little nervous trepidation at seeing Adora’s room for the first time, she trudged up the stairs and nudged open the door with a foot.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">—</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Catra. At my house. With my friends.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Wow.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The smile creeping across Adora’s face vanished in a flash as she stripped off her muddy jeans and sports bra, the movement shooting hot, aching pain through her puffy shoulder. Adora knew full well that Bow and Glimmer would probably give her hell about it until she actually went to see a doctor, but that was the last thing she wanted to do.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">If the shoulder was as bad as it felt—and it felt <em>atrocious </em>despite her best efforts to pretend that it didn’t burn like a thousand suns—then she would have a serious problem. A large, shredded, angry problem.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Coach will fucking kill me. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The mental math was clear; at the very least, if the shoulder had actually been dislocated—which it definitely had been, judging by the loud <em>pop</em> when Adora threw herself at Scorpia on the field—serious sports work would be on hold for at least six weeks, if not more. The recovery time meant Adora couldn't row for the rest of the semester and probably half of the coming season. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She pushed <em>all that shit </em>away in favor of internalizing the feeling of Catra sitting next to her in the car. She was <em>finally</em> seeing where Adora lived; the moment felt indescribably special. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Adora? I’ve got—<em>oh Jesus Christ</em>.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora spun around, peeking through the neck hole of the t-shirt she had pulled on halfway. Catra stood in the doorway, eyes wide and pointedly glued to the floor, carrying Adora’s stuff in a bundle.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Um, I have your stuff, so. Here it is.” Catra unceremoniously dumped everything on the floor and started backing out of the room.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wait, Catra,” Adora called out. “My shoulder, uh…Can you help me get this shirt on?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After a split second of staring into space, Catra stepped closer and gripped the hem. Adora silently cursed herself for making the other girl uncomfortable—because she clearly was, judging by the bright red skin, pursed lips, and vacant eyes—but Adora <em>literally could not pull on the shirt </em>without her shoulder screaming. With a tug far more gentle than expected, Catra pulled the shirt fully over Adora’s torso. Her knuckles ghosted over Adora’s skin, leaving trails of tingling fire. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora gulped and shakily adjusted herself within the shirt, some underlying quality of the silence preventing her from speaking. Catra’s eyes were wide, almost as if she were afraid, though she seemed to lean imperceptibly closer.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra let out a breath. She chewed on her lip for a moment, mulling something over. “Um, Adora—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Adora, can I talk to you—oh, shit, sorry.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora snapped her head to the doorway, where Glimmer—now in pajamas, face mostly scrubbed clean of mud—leaned heavily on the frame with tears in her eyes. Catra gave Adora a half-assed, incredibly awkward salute and pushed past Glimmer, thumping down the stairs to the living room.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What the—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So, what’d you wanna talk about?” Adora nearly shouted before Glimmer could finish. Because in truth, Adora had no idea <em>what the hell that was</em>, but she sure would have liked to find out before a certain pink-haired asshat got in the middle of it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Pause. What the fuck just happened?” Glimmer asked, walking in and thumping down on Adora’s bed. She crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow expectantly. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">While Adora was glad that the waterworks seemed to be on pause, she honestly would have preferred abject weeping to <em>this</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“She helped me put my shirt on. Y’know. ‘Cause of my shoulder?” For proof, Adora pointed repeatedly at the puffy red skin, eyebrows raised.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Maybe she should’ve helped you put pants on, too,” Glimmer snickered. Adora looked down with horror; she’d asked Catra into the room while completely unaware that she was half-naked. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Oh fuck, that’s awkward. Wait, why? It’s nothing she hasn’t seen before, but…</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shut up,” Adora muttered. She ripped open a dresser drawer, fished out some sweatpants, and hurriedly pulled them on, glaring at Glimmer the entire time.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Glimmer chuckled. “That’s so gay, dude.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora shushed her and slammed the bedroom door shut with a well-placed kick. “Bro! Be quiet!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You <em>really </em>gonna stand there and tell me—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s <em>not </em>like that—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Glimmer shot from the bed, strolling around the room with a finger on her chin like she was lecturing to an audience. “Fellas, is it gay to ask your <em>friend </em>to help you put on a shirt—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“<em>Glimmer!”</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“—and you’re not wearing pants, and you’re both girls?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know where you sleep, dude,” Adora ground out through clenched teeth, though she had to admit the situation <em>was </em>pretty funny.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, fine, fine.” Glimmer sat on the bed again, taking a deep breath as her expression suddenly turned serious. “I really did want to talk, though. About today.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She sniffled as Adora sat beside her, rubbing her back. “I am <em>so, so </em>sorry. I can’t believe I fucked up your shoulder, and I feel like such an asshole—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Glimm, hey, <em>stop</em>. It’s okay,” Adora said softly, wrapping the shorter girl into a tight one-armed hug. “I’ll throw some ice on it and it’ll be like nothing ever happened! I’m good, for real.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>I hope.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But what about rowing—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Seriously, I’m good. It’ll be better in no time.” With a sigh, Adora rose from the bed and offered Glimmer a hand. “Now let’s watch the movie.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Once they’d descended the stairs, Glimmer disappeared into the kitchen, insistent on fetching the ice pack herself. Adora was confronted by the puzzling sight of Bow and Catra <em>making small talk. </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Bow. Catra. Talking?</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Both of them looked kind of… like they were enjoying it? Sure, Catra was fidgeting a bit (like she always did when she was mildly uncomfortable) and Bow wasn’t gesticulating wildly (which he did when he was <em>really </em>into something) but they still seemed… fairly at ease. It was just so <em>cute, </em>and Adora had no choice but to be herself and ruin the calm atmosphere.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Think fast!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Leading with her good arm, Adora tackled Catra onto the couch, the two of them nearly swallowed as the impossibly plush cushions gave way. Catra shoved Adora off with a grunt, but at least she was smiling a little.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bow shot them an amused look. “You really should see a doctor, bro,” he said, collapsing onto the couch with an appreciative sigh. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, yeah, maybe later<em>,</em>” Adora groaned. With a barely restrained wince, she slung the injured arm around Catra’s shoulders and squeezed, flaunting an <em>I told you so </em>look at Bow. “See? It’s perfectly—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora wheezed as the sweet fire of an ice pack coming down on her shoulder erased all conscious thought for a moment. Glimmer came around, cackling, and Catra stiffened for a split second; she only relaxed when Glimmer chose to sit on the far side of the couch (quite close to Bow, Adora noted with a sly grin).</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The Best Friends Squad were <em>quite </em>guilty of the mortal sin of talking during movies, and this time was no different. They jeered, laughed, and screamed as moments of horror or humor passed, throwing out comments left and right. They were nearly halfway through the movie when Adora finally realized—with more than a little shock—that Catra had never moved out from under her arm. Instead, she had settled into Adora’s side, her own quiet comments or subtle flinches vibrating through Adora’s ribs. Not that it was weird, or anything; Catra had spent most of her life basically in Adora’s lap up until they were teenagers, and even then they were always slapping or grabbing at each other. Actually, </span>
  <span class="s1">Adora had always thought it curious that Catra lost her temper if other people came within three feet of her, but she basically let Adora pinch, shove, and grab to her heart’s desire—</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Um, Adora?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora sat up groggily, unsure of where she was for a moment. Something was tickling her cheek. Hair?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Adora? I think you’re drooling on me,” Catra mumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh shit, sorry.” She squinted at the end credits rolling across the screen. She’d drifted off right on top of Catra’s head, who surprisingly seemed to have taken it in stride. Still sleepy, Adora rested her head gently back on the crown of Catra’s head, admiring the familiar scent of her hair.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Adora, come on. We have to work.” Catra slid off the couch and stood, smirking as Adora grumbled under her breath. She tossed the now-melted ice pack on the coffee table and stretched, grimacing as she worked out the soreness in her puffy shoulder. Now more fully awake, she waved for Catra to follow her up the stairs to her room.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora flopped on the bed and gestured for Catra to shut the door, which she did before looking around awkwardly and taking a seat on the floor.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You look tired,” she said, grabbing her messenger bag but not opening it. “We can do this later, if you want—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, no,” Adora said quickly, groggily struggling upright on the bed. “I’m good! We should do this. Besides, I have a memory in mind.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra nodded and pulled out a notebook, flipping it open to an empty page. She looked up expectantly, waiting for Adora to start. After a deep, bracing breath, she spoke.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Adora pounded a fist on the bathroom stall. She could break it open if she really wanted to, but she hoped that it wouldn’t come to that.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“Catra, will you just talk to me?”</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“I told you to fuck off.” </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Adora could hear tears underneath the rage, which only strengthened her resolve. Something was broken, and she needed to fix it.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“I don’t care. We </em>need <em>to talk about this,” Adora said firmly, jostling the door again. “Catra, please. I don’t know what I did, but I want—”</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“You didn’t fucking </em>do <em>anything but be yourself. That’s more than enough.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Adora groaned. She rested her forehead against the metal door, brushing her fingers over it as if she could reach Catra through the barrier. Today should have been a good day; sophomore year was almost over, and Weaver had handed out promotions. Adora had gotten a step up the ranks, which was—</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>She swore under her breath at her own stupidity. They’d all stood there in their itchy uniforms, lined up in their squads, Weaver calling name after name of those who were receiving a ribbon or promotion—and Catra hadn’t gotten a single thing. Of course she was pissed, and rightfully so; she’d actually been doing really well.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“This is about the promotions, isn’t it?” Adora paused, waiting for a reply, but none came. “Catra, come on.”</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“Sure, why not. Now will you leave me the fuck alone?”</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Really? This one?” Catra muttered, fiddling with a loose thread in her jeans. Adora sighed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>That was it. Adora grit her teeth and untucked her shirt, crouching down to look under the stall at Catra’s scuffed dress shoes. There was more than enough space for Adora to fit; Catra yelped in surprise as she crawled under the door on hands and knees, probably soiling her uniform but not in the mood to give a shit.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“What the fuck, dude?” Catra yelled, backing into the wall like a cornered animal, curly hair coming loose from the regulation bun, panting, teeth bared. Any of the other kids in JROTC knew better than to even </em>look<em> her way when she was like that, but Adora had an advantage. She knew Catra to her core, and she also knew that the more pissed Catra seemed, the more sad and vulnerable she actually felt. Her anger held no bite, scary as it was.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Adora closed in on Catra’s space, putting her hands on her hips. “We’re going to </em>talk <em>about this. Right now.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Through grinding teeth, Catra could only mutter, “What. Do you. Want?”</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“I want for you to fucking talk to me!” Adora shouted, her own frustration finally spilling loose. She held out her hands placatingly, trying to communicate how earnest she felt. “I’m sorry I got promoted and you didn’t, but you know how Weaver is—”</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Catra laughed suddenly, long and loud, which only confused Adora further. “You think that’s what this is really about, huh?”</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“Then I don’t get it, man! Why are you so mad?” Adora croaked. She reached out to grip Catra’s shoulders, but the other girl roughly shoved aside her hand with an elbow. “Catra…”</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“If you’re so </em>confused, <em>why don’t you ask your friends?” Catra spat, stepping forward so suddenly that Adora thought she was about to throw a punch. “Weaver fucks me over even though I’ve been working my ass off all semester, </em>you<em> get promoted, and then you go fuck around and celebrate with the rest of the golden kids.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Jealousy, then. Adora mentally kicked herself for being so oblivious; Catra barely gave a damn about what Weaver did anymore, but she had never lost her sensitivity when it came to Adora giving attention to other people, especially if she was already hurting. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Adora did the first thing that came to mind; she threw her arms around Catra, trying to crush her so tightly that the walls would crumble and let comfort take the place of anger and spite. The tactic was Adora’s sure thing when they were kids, but this time it backfired.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Catra shoved Adora so hard she stumbled into the stall door with a rattling thud. They stood there a moment, panting, Adora fighting a flood of embarrassed, confused tears while Catra looked on in muted horror—but whether it was directed at herself or Adora’s clearly shitty attempt at comfort was unclear.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“That shit doesn’t fucking work anymore, Adora,” Catra growled, her expression re-solidifying into fury. As if tearing out of a straitjacket, she ripped her uniform tie off and shoved it into a pocket while unbuttoning her collar, hands shaking. “Stop treating me like I’m a fucking kid!”</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>In a flash, Catra shoved past Adora and ripped open the stall door. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Stop,” Catra said quietly. “I remember the rest.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">—</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, you didn’t talk to me for like, a week,” Adora muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There were a lot of <em>reasons, </em>a lot of <em>explanations </em>for past events that had come clear to Catra recently—very recently. <em>Of course</em> Adora would choose to include a memory intimately tied to what Catra dreaded talking about the most, though she couldn’t possibly have realized.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra now knew that all those times she’d snapped at Adora for getting touchy with Lonnie, or playing with Rogelio, or <em>whatever the fuck, </em>she’d been sick with jealousy. For all those years her burning, possessive love for Adora had fueled some of her most outrageous and inexcusable transgressions. She had done some embarrassing, childish, cruel things at the behest of her own heart without even knowing why. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">U</span>
  <span class="s1">ntil recently.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And now Adora—ever the oblivious dumbass at the most inopportune times—wanted to <em>talk </em>about it, and Catra was in no mood to do so. She still burned from walking in while the blonde was nearly topless, without fucking <em>pants. </em>Her cheeks flushed just from the mental image. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Then</em> Adora had fallen asleep during the movie, basically crushing Catra under the weight of her arm and head. Where to begin with <em>that?</em> It was all well and good when Adora slung a friendly arm around Catra’s shoulders to prove a point to Bow (though she was definitely lying about the extent of her injury), but then she <em>left </em>the arm there, warm, tantalizing, <em>irritating.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora had no idea how her actions made Catra feel. That had been a theme all their lives, and now that Catra recognized that what she felt was attraction, that she <em>desired, </em>all of Adora’s old habits—the physicality, the teasing, the little jokes that nobody besides her and Catra would ever laugh at—were blazing with an irrefutably different light. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This presented a problem. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sometimes Catra wanted to scream her feelings from the rooftops. To grab Adora by the neck, draw her down to eye level, and <em>say it; </em>but if she did, it could only go so many ways. The most likely result was that Adora would pity her, feel guilty, and probably—worst of all—stop acting the way she normally did. It would be easier for Catra to focus on shoving away her feelings rather then let go of Adora’s friendly affection after living without it for so long.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">If the two of them really dug into <em>why </em>Catra had acted so rashly when Adora gave attention to other people, the conversation might inevitably turn to those words which Catra couldn’t bear to say, to the feelings she hadn’t acknowledged to a single soul, having barely been able to admit them to herself. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Instead, Catra decided to do that which came most naturally to her: run.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“All right, add it to the Google doc,” she said calmly. She stuffed her notebook into the messenger bag and stood quickly, ignoring the confusion slowly spreading over Adora’s face.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wha—that’s it? I thought we were going to talk—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra paused, her hand on the doorknob. “Nope, I think that one explains itself. I gotta go, so I’ll see you Monday.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wait, Catra—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She stepped out and shut the door behind her, cutting Adora off mid-sentence. The front door was in sight. Just a little further, and—</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Catra?” Glimmer called from the kitchen; from what Catra could see it was absolutely as fancy as the rest of the townhouse. “Leaving already?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yep, got shit I gotta do. Catch you later.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She froze with the door half open, held back by a feeling she couldn’t name. She slowly turned to lock eyes with Glimmer, still staring at her from the kitchen.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thanks… for having me, I mean.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Glimmer blinked a few times, frowning. “Uh, sure. Yeah.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“See you later, then,” Catra said with a jerky nod, somehow feeling a little lighter. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The cold night air hit her skin like a slap as she stepped into the street. Drawing her jacket tighter around her torso did little to help as she speedwalked in the direction of home; she could always ask Scorpia for a ride, but seeing as she was probably with Perfuma, the idea wasn’t too appealing. They asked far too many questions about Adora that Catra would rather not answer or think about—she already spent enough time asking <em>herself </em>the same kinds of questions without really answering them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After a while, the Stinky Pinky liquor store loomed in the distance, though the idea of drinking didn’t seem appealing. The Horde house was also an option, but Catra didn’t particularly feel like dealing with <em>that </em>either. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t drank since meeting with Adora at the coffee shop last Friday. Waking up without some kind of hangover felt a little odd, but…it was kind of pleasant to be sober, at least for a little while.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra mulled all this over as she unlocked her front door and braced herself for company, seeing as the lights were still on. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Scorpia and Perfuma were cuddled up on the couch watching TV; Catra gave them a half-hearted wave as she sped straight for her room and shut the door.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A six-pack of beer called to her from under the desk, but she decided against it once more. She flopped down on the futon with a sigh and pulled out her phone to scroll mindlessly for awhile before getting ready for bed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra groaned. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>Adora: </em> </b> <em>Sorry if I did something wrong</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>Adora: </em> </b> <em>I didn’t mean to :(</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>Adora: </em> </b> <em>Have a nice weekend!!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra searched herself for the energy to text back but came up short; instead, she left the messages on read. They’d chitchat after class on Monday or something, and hopefully Adora wouldn’t make a big deal out of it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A knock on the door startled her. As tempting as it would be to just say nothing, that option would also be <em>very awkward. </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s up?” Catra grunted, rising to her elbows. The door opened slowly and Perfuma stepped through—no Scorpia, though. “Oh. ‘Sup, Perfuma?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Much as Catra disliked nearly everyone she met at least on some level, Perfuma was actually sort of pleasant. The sheer amount of PDA between her and Scorpia was a little sickening—though Catra often wondered if she was just jealous—but as an individual, Perfuma came off as a pretty genuine person. She and Scorpia fit together well, cutesy and annoying as they were.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hi, Catra.” Perfuma shut the door behind her and stood with her hands clasped together. “Mind if I sit?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sure.”</span>
  <span class="s1">Perfuma smiled and settled cross-legged on the floor, looking innocent, but Catra was the suspicious type. “You’re not gonna interrogate me, are you? Kinda had enough of that shit today.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Perfuma laughed, sweet and clear as a bell. “Hopefully it’ll be more of a <em>conversation</em>, but I guess it depends on your perspective.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Always sounds like you’re about to read my tarot or some shit,” Catra murmured, feigning humor to cover her unease.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That earned another laugh; Catra was clearly on a roll. “I could, but I actually wanted to <em>talk</em> about something. I think you already know.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“Adora,” </em>Catra muttered without hesitation. She laid back on the futon with a low groan, rubbing her temples. “Listen, I’ve told you and Scorpia a <em>million times—”</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Catra, can I say something?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With a sigh, Catra waved for her to go on.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thank you. I know we haven’t talked very much—at the GSA meetings or otherwise—but I like you.” She smiled at Catra’s perplexed look. “Really, I do. On top of that, Scorpia considers you to be a really good friend.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So?” Catra rose to a sit, frowning. <em>Where the fuck is this going?</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“<em>So, </em>I care if you’re happy or not. And to be honest, you don’t usually seem that happy.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And here I thought people liked to be around me because of my sunny disposition,” Catra quipped, though Perfuma merely shot her a patient look.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“From what little you’ve said at the meetings, it sounds like you only recently came to terms with your sexuality. Is that right?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Much as Catra was growing more uncomfortable by the second, the open invitation to talk about things she’d been holding in for months was unbelievably seductive. So, rather than let fear take over, Catra willed herself towards being open—if only for a moment.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah. Something like that.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Perfuma paused, seeming to carefully weigh her next words. “I don’t want to talk about Adora. I want to talk about <em>you.</em>”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At Catra’s frown, she took a deep breath and went on. “I think that for your own sake, you should be honest about your feelings. You should <em>engage </em>with them.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“First of all,” Catra cut in sharply. “Even if I did have <em>feelings</em>, or whatever, for Adora—” </span>
  <span class="s1">Perfuma raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips. Catra ignored her. </span>
  <span class="s1">“—there’s no way in hell I’d <em>tell </em>her—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Catra, I meant that you should be honest with <em>yourself </em>about your feelings and what they mean. Not with Adora.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra blinked a few times. Perfuma often talked in circles, but this was some loop-de-loop shit. “I don’t get it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Perfuma hummed, gently tapping her hands on her crossed legs. “What I <em>mean </em>is that you need to be honest with <em>yourself</em>. What I’m <em>saying </em>is the first step is wrestling with what it all means <em>to you.</em>”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I still don’t get—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Catra, please. You haven’t talked to <em>anyone </em>about this, have you? You probably force yourself not to think about it and then it drives you crazy.” Perfuma gently placed a hand on Catra’s knee, looking deeply into her eyes. “I see it because <em>I’ve been there. </em>What I’m really trying to say is that you should <em>accept your feelings</em> <em>for what they are.</em> After that, so much becomes clear.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s bullshit,” Catra muttered, shifting away from Perfuma’s hand. “You know what? Fine. Since it’s already so <em>obvious </em>to you, you think I don’t know how I feel? You think I don’t know that I—that I…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Perfuma sighed and folded her hands in her lap. “That’s what I mean. I see you struggling to just <em>feel </em>it<em>,</em> to let it exist without <em>fighting it.</em>”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But it doesn’t <em>matter </em>how I feel,” Catra whispered, surprised at the sudden swell of despair within her chest. “I can’t ever tell her.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Because I—” A shuddering intake of breath, a clench of the fist—nothing helped Catra regain control of her emotions as they came loose from her grasp. “Because it still feels <em>wrong. </em>I feel guilty, I feel ashamed, and I… I know that she doesn’t want me that way.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I understand that you feel that way. Really, I do. You want to at least be friends with her, right?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“…yes.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But it’s also hurting you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra sighed, remembering the many bittersweet aches that came from Adora’s casual touches. With enough effort, she could imagine the ghost of fingers dancing across her skin, poking, tickling… “Yes.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then maybe—just maybe—think about laying your feelings out to yourself, really <em>looking </em>at them, and trying to accept them for what they are. Maybe you can tell her someday, if that’s what you want to do. Or not. Either way, simply being able to say ‘yes, I feel this’ and ‘yes, that’s okay’ can do <em>so much. </em>”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay.” Catra sucked in a shaky breath, eyes burning. “All right.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Perfuma stood, smiling down at her. “Thank you for talking to me. You’ve been through so much in such a short time, and that’s hard. Really, it’s tough, and I wanted you to know that I see you, and I care. Okay?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“…okay.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The door had nearly shut behind her when Perfuma paused and peeked through the crack. Slowly, Catra looked up to meet her kind, earnest eyes. “And, Catra?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know Adora very well at all, but from what I <em>have </em>seen…” A small smile spread across her face, tinged with a little roguishness. “I think she might be more receptive than you think. Also, telling her would probably make you feel a lot better just from <em>getting it out.</em>”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After Perfuma finally bade her goodnight, Catra’s head swam. She rubbed at her forehead, curling up on the futon, but comfort was a distant memory; truth be told, she <em>had </em>been fighting her feelings at every turn, violently pushing them away whenever they crept into her conscious mind. Being around Adora brought every desire, every hope surging back to the forefront—it made Catra tense, jumpy, cruel when she meant to be funny, silent when she wanted desperately to speak.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Was it really possible that Adora might feel the same way? That seemed so unlikely. Adora would have told Catra if she was gay—she was terrible at keeping secrets. They used to tell each other everything, and now that they’d reconnected… Adora definitely would have brought it up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Right? </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra barely slept that night. When she woke up the next morning, she didn’t feel better, simply… different. A dark ache in the back of her mind still needed closure, but it took her hours to figure out what it was.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">—</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">George shut off the projector and clasped his hands together, viewing the room with a wide smile. “So that’s it, everyone. It was a pleasure having you all this semester. Don’t forget, there’s no class on Friday! Remember your projects are due during finals week!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora sprang from her seat, already packed up and ready to head for where Catra sat in the back, but she was already waiting a few feet away from Adora's seat. Catra eyed the sling holding Adora’s left arm curiously.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, hey!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, Adora.” Catra was smiling, but she anxiously shifted her weight from foot to foot. “Sorry I didn’t hang around to chat on Monday. I had a lab report to finish.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nah, that’s fine.” They waved goodbye to George and walked into the hall. After a moment, Adora cleared her throat awkwardly. “Um, did you read the last thing I put on the Google doc?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yep, looked it over. Sounds good,” Catra replied brusquely. Adora frowned.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So, we’re not gonna talk about it more?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra pushed open the doors to the outside, avoiding Adora’s questioning look. “Nope.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Okay, guess that’s that, then. </em>“…’kay. So, headed to lab now?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, last day. Gotta clean out our drawers and shit, give back all the equipment. You?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wrapping up an engineering project thing. Fun stuff. Think it took a few years off my life.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They walked in silence for a few minutes. Adora sneaked an occasional sideways glance at Catra, gauging her mood; for once, she seemed placid as a lake.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So, a sling, huh?” Catra asked suddenly, brushing an errant strand of hair from her face.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora chuckled, a little abashed. “Yeah, Bow made me wear it. Pretty annoying.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra rolled her eyes. “What about crew practice? You been sitting it out?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, uh—” Adora coughed, brushing some nonexistent dust from her sling. “Yeah, basically.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The lie burned a bit coming off the tongue, but Adora didn’t know how to say <em>actually I told the team that it wasn’t even dislocated, I’ve still been rowing my ass off, and there’s no way in hell I’d tell Coach. </em>If Bow, Glimmer or even Catra knew, they’d probably give her shit for it until the end of time. Best not to bring it up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Speaking of bringing things up… “Hey, you busy tomorrow night? Since we don’t have morning class on Friday, I thought we could do something.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They stopped by the entrance to the lab building, moving aside to let other students pass. “Like what?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, Bow’s frat is doing a tour de Franzia, so—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A fucking what?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh man, you’re gonna love it. It’s so stupid. So we ride bikes, and you take a wine bag, right—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shit, hold on.” Catra pulled out her phone, grumbling curses as she scrolled. “Sorry, I gotta go in early. My fucking labmate can’t find some of our glassware and he’s freaking out.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sure, no problem,” Adora blurted, crushing her disappointment into a tiny ball and throwing it into a mental trash can. Normally they’d be able to chat for at least a minute or two more before splitting up, and she <em>really </em>wanted Catra to come—</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just text me the deets, and I’ll be there,” Catra said, backing into the building. She shot Adora a sly smirk. “Tomorrow night, right?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah! Cool! Okay. Uh, bye.” Adora turned and stumbled away to her next lecture a few buildings away. An urgent thought poked and prodded its way into her conscious mind, but didn’t fully take form until class was halfway over.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Oh, crap. I gave her so much shit for drinking and now I’m literally asking her to drink. </em>Adora sighed and fiddled with her pen as the professor droned on about the final. She was a little comforted by the fact that Catra hadn’t seemed hungover in a while, and she hadn’t been absent from their philosophy lecture at all. It was probably fine; she would just keep a vigilant eye on Catra come Thursday night. Maybe they could split a wine bag rather than having their own, or something.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The rest of the day passed in a blur. The gym was fairly quiet that night when Adora clocked in; she spent most of her shift cleaning and re-cleaning the machines, double-checking the stock of paper towels and cleaning spray. Mindless crap. Her shoulder was screaming by the end of the night, but she grit her teeth and pushed the pain to the back of her mind. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She still had no intention of telling Huntara—the (loose, incredibly vague, probably unwise) plan at this point was to keep the extent of her injury away from her coach and other teammates, at least until winter break when she could actually take some time to recover. Continuing to practice at normal intensity definitely wasn’t making the shoulder <em>better,</em> but the coming spring season loomed heavily on Adora’s mental horizon.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The next day went by quickly—more projects turned in, more final exam details scribbled down. A few hours after sunset, Adora anxiously paced back and forth in front of her townhouse, waiting for Catra to arrive and hoping that she remembered the one thing she needed to bring.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eventually, Adora was relieved to hear the sound of a bike coming up the street. Catra rolled to a stop in front of her and dismounted. “Hey, Adora.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra’s bike was a surprisingly nice red and black fixie—probably an impulse purchase that went mostly unused, since Adora had never seen it before.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good, you brought a bike. Ready to go? It’s a short ride to Bow’s frat.” Adora undid the chain of her own (very sensible) mountain bike, pulling it from the rack and rolling it into the street, Catra in tow.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, wait. I still don’t know what we’re actually doing,” Catra said, mounting her bike and setting off behind Adora, soon speeding up to be side by side.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The night air was fresh as always, carrying the scent of pine and ocean salt. Biking with the sling on was a pain in the ass, but Adora managed. “Basically, we’re gonna bike around town, drinking from a wine bag, until we end up back at my house. I got the bag in my backpack to hide it from cops or whatever.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra chuckled as they turned a corner, wind whipping her hair. In that moment Adora realized just how beautiful she often looked at the most mundane of moments. “A wine bag, huh? Classy.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, you know how frats are,” Adora grunted, the pain in her shoulder making her words come out more clipped than intended. Catra didn’t seem to mind, though. “Speaking of frats, you, uh… been at the Horde house lately?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nah. Been too busy for booze. But finals are almost here, so might as well go hard while I can, right?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora blew out a relieved breath as they skidded to a stop in front of Bow’s house. She’d been so worried that inviting Catra was a mistake, that she’d accidentally encouraged what had clearly seemed to be a bad drinking habit, but hearing that Catra had taken a break—on her own, no less, without Adora badgering her any further about it—was music to her ears. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Most of the participants were already milling about outside, checking out their bikes and readying their own bags of wine. Bow was in the middle of tearing open his box to get the bag out when Catra and Adora walked up with their bikes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“‘Sup, guys. Y’all ready for this?” he asked with a wide smile. Before anyone could reply, Seahawk came quickly from behind and threw an arm around Bow’s shoulders, nearly knocking him over.<br/></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Adora! Good to see you! And you are…?” Seahawk trailed off, looking Catra up and down with a friendly grin beneath his absurdly shiny mustache. Old-fashioned as ever, he stuck out a hand; Catra shook it a little apprehensively.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Catra,” she muttered. “What’s your—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“They call me Seahawk!” he shouted, squeezing the arm around Bow’s neck tight enough to make the boy squirm. “And I look forward to partying with you fine ladies tonight! Also, Adora…” He leaned in close, lowering his voice to a whisper that was still fairly loud. “…is Mermista coming?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, I don’t think so. Sorry, man,” Adora said, trying not to laugh. The dude had been obviously in love with Mermista for <em>years</em>. There was a bet amongst the other frat guys—that Glimmer and Adora also went in on, because why not?—over how long it would actually take for the relationship to happen, or if it would happen at all. Most of the guys thought that Mermista was a no-go, but Adora knew better; stern as she was, the girl <em>definitely </em>harbored a soft spot for Seahawk.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After bidding them farewell with an exaggerated bow, Seahawk toddled off to his bike. Adora pulled the plastic wine bag from her backpack and held it out to Catra with a grin. “Want a little before we go?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is that even a question?” Catra smirked as she took a pull from the spout, shooting Adora a wink. She nodde appreciatively and tossed the bag back. “Much better than the shit in that jug, way back when. I approve.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good to hear. Shall we?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They mounted their bikes and set off behind the others, laughing, chatting, trying not to crash into each other as they took turns with the bag, tossing it back and forth as they rode. There were few times when Adora felt as free as she did now, biking next to Catra in comfortable silence, though that was sometimes broken by a humorous comment on the other bikers’ riding skills. She sent more than a few glances in Catra’s direction when they weren’t speaking or sucking from the spout. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mostly, Adora noted how the streetlights played over Catra's skin or reflected off her glasses. It could’ve been the wine, but it was as if an air of magic had settled over just the two of them; a little bubble of their own.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There were a few brief stops at other houses along the way for shots, but the conversations passed through Adora’s head like sand through her fingers. She preferred to watch Catra, to take in the the way she moved as she laughed and made small talk, to study every detail of her confident grip on the handlebars each time they got back on the road. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">By the time they finally made it to Adora’s townhouse, the wine bag was half empty. Glimmer was ready and waiting with a few cases of beer that were quickly set upon by the revelers. The large living room soon became a chorus of cheers, cans popping open, and laughter.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After mingling for a while (and repeatedly telling Seahawk that no, Mermista wasn’t coming), Adora spotted Catra sitting at the base of the stairs, sipping quietly from the wine bag. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora sat beside the other girl with a tired sigh and held out a hand. </span>
  <span class="s1">Wordlessly, Catra handed the bag over, watching as she took a sip from the spout. “Adora?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wassup?” Adora slurred, though only slightly. If there was a soul on planet Earth who could down this much wine (plus a few shots) in less than an two hours without starting to slur, she’d like to meet them. And call them a liar.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thanks for inviting me,” Catra mumbled, gently bumping their shoulders together. Unable to contain herself, Adora threw her good arm around Catra’s shoulders and squeezed, earning a shocked squeak from the girl. Adora dodged a few limp punches and hit back with some choice pokes at Catra’s (incredibly ticklish) ribs.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After a few more half-assed slaps at each other, they settled back into silence, watching over the rest of the chaos with contentment. Normally Adora would be dancing, armwrestling someone (probably Seahawk, who never learned his lesson), or acting like a dumbass elsewhere in the house, but at present she wanted nothing more than to sit next to Catra, silent and happy, passing a plastic bag of wine back and forth.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra nudged Adora’s side, startling her; she turned with an eyebrow raised, eyes hooded and more than a little red in the face. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Whaddaya say we, uh,” Catra stopped suddenly, brow creased. After a moment her expression cleared and she went on, but Adora had already set her blurry gaze on Glimmer, who at present was peering curiously at the two of them from across the room as she leaned on Bow’s shoulder. A small, tense smile crossed over Glimmer's face before she turned back to her own conversation. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Adora?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sorry, what?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I said since we’re already here, why don’t we finish the last bit of the project?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora sputtered, nearly losing the wine she was trying to swallow. “Right now? But we’re drunk!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Speak for yourself,” Catra laughed. “C’mon, no time like the present.” She rose and looked down at Adora with a sly grin, holding out her hand.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora realized she was well and truly drunk as she let herself be led to the room, head spinning, but more intoxicated by the strange energy that crackled in the air rather than the wine. In a flash, Catra shoved Adora onto the bed, knocking the breath out of her in a wheeze.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Asshole,” Adora gasped. Catra thumped down beside her, still chuckling.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s for tickling me.” She dodged a punch aimed at her shoulder. “We gonna do this or what?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You got something in mind?” Adora asked, settling with her back to the wall. Catra glanced back at her for a moment before quickly flicking her eyes away.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah. I do. Something I think we should probably, finally, really talk about.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora breathed deeply, her stomach clenching anxiously. “All right.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>The fucking party.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Catra hadn’t wanted to go to the stupid party at Glimmer’s house, but Adora was so excited for her to meet these new “friends"; plus, they hadn’t seen much of each other recently, and Catra missed her, though she would rather have died than said that out loud. It was also the end of the school year, so a party seemed like an okay idea. Even if it was probably going to be a bunch of loser rich kids.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>So she went, drank some vodka, and kept her eyes on Adora all night, a sickly feeling of dread spreading further over her skin with each passing minute. The other foster kids didn’t seem to be picking up the same vibe, but Catra could tell something was off. Adora was hiding something, and Catra desperately needed to find out what it was, even though she had a feeling that something between them would irrevocably break once she found out.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Adora had spent so much time with Glimmer and Bow over the past few months—doing what, Catra had no fucking idea. Weaver sure didn’t seem to know either, judging by how often she asked where Adora was going after school. Catra was all too often left in the uncomfortable position of having to cover for her more than once.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>The house was beyond opulent; clearly, Glimmer’s parents were loaded. Rather than talking to anyone, Catra spent the time she didn’t use for staring at Adora on simply taking in the decor, the space, and the cleanliness. It was like being on an alien planet, and she felt severely vulnerable, but of course Adora fit right in. She moved around the house like she’d lived there all her life, which only put Catra more on edge.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>After what felt like years, the party was close to winding down. Catra was a little unsteady on her feet; she moved closer to Adora out of habit, ready to leave, when she heard Bow unthinkingly say—</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“—that you were transferring, and—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And we fought,” Adora muttered, eyes glazed over. Unconsciously, she raised a hand to her jaw, gently brushing the thin scars there.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra scooted closer, mirroring Adora’s lean against the wall. “I never got a real answer about why you didn’t tell me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Catra, I <em>did </em>give you an answer. I didn’t know how to tell you I was leaving, so—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So you just said nothing? That’s it?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora’s thoughts swirled, a mental alarm blaring <em>danger</em>, but she could barely pick it out through the haze of wine. “Yes! And I’m sorry, but—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No,” Catra said quietly. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“<em>No.</em>” Catra scrambled off the bed and stood, hands balled into fists, glaring with barely contained fury. “That shit doesn’t cut it anymore, Adora.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Catra--”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We used to tell each other <em>everything. </em>Every single fucking thing, we told it to each other. But that <em>one thing—”</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I didn’t know how!” Adora groaned, her shoulder throbbing with her rising blood pressure. “Like, I don’t know what you want me to say—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t want you to say <em>anything,</em>” Catra nearly shouted. She was trembling ever so slightly, and Adora’s mind flooded with a million grisly memories of Catra shaking from fear, from rage, from pain. “I want the <em>truth. </em>I want you—I want you to tell me how it was so easy to break a promise that we’d been making for <em>fucking years!</em>”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora knew that promise and all its variants by heart, even now.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Never leave. Always stay together. You look out for me, I look out for you.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s not that fucking simple!” Adora rose from the bed, looking down at Catra with her arms held wide—placating, <em>begging</em>. “I wanted to get you out too, but I couldn’t. I wanted to tell you about it, but it all happened so fast and I was already <em>so afraid</em>.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">What Adora couldn’t bring herself to say was that, at the time, she'd feared Catra’s reaction more than anything. It seemed like she was finally receiving the fullness of that fury, just a few years delayed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra snorted. Her voice was richly layered with derision. “Afraid of what? Weaver? I don’t know how you pulled it off but she barely made a fucking peep after you left.” A flicker of something sad, something <em>dark</em> in her eyes was there and gone in a flash, a vacant stare in its place. “She took it out on the rest of us, though.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Guilt ripped through Adora, nearly stealing her breath. On some level she knew that Weaver would have punished the rest of the kids because she left, but to have it finally confirmed? She couldn’t come up with anything to say, especially now, with her worries about crew team, finals, Catra, and <em>the future </em>fighting for attention at every turn, each hammering into her skull in violent syncopation.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The look on her face must have been heartbreaking because Catra suddenly blinked, her eyes clearing. She slowly placed a hand on Adora’s trembling wrist and gave it a gentle squeeze.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I—I’m gonna go. I’m tired, and a little drunk, and…” she trailed off as she slowly backed away to the door, eyes darting around the room. “I’ll see you later.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora let out a gust of breath as Catra fled the room. She laid back on her bed, staring at the ceiling, desperately grasping for the moment when it had gone wrong. For the life of her she couldn’t tell what the problem was or why no answer seemed good enough for Catra; her mind kept returning to what she’d just said about <em>telling each other everything. </em>That was mostly true, though Catra grew more private in her teenage years, but also… there was something Adora definitely <em>had not </em>told her, because there seemed to be no good time to suddenly blurt “hey, I’m gay, haha, so anyways…” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That would have been so <em>weird.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Their relationship still wasn’t like it used to be, and Adora wondered if it would never fully heal no matter how much time they spent together. Years had passed, shit had happened, and Adora no longer knew what the boundaries were. Even the way they physically acted around each other was different; Adora had quickly fallen back into the habit of play-fighting early on, but Catra hadn’t played back until literally fifteen minutes ago. The disparity between what Adora remembered and how things were now was alarming, confusing, and more than a little heartbreaking.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bow suddenly loomed in her vision, looking down at her curiously. “Uh, you good?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yep,” Adora grunted, giving a wobbly thumbs-up. His frown deepened.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I saw Catra leave, so I thought—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nope, all good.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“…okay.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“‘Kay.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bow blinked a few times, lips pursed. “Uh, anyway, do you want to come to the GSA meeting tomorrow? My afternoon class is cancelled, so I thought I’d at least drop by once to say hey to everyone.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sure, why not,” Adora muttered after taking a second to consider. After all, she’d promised him a million times that she would go before bailing out at the last minute. A distraction would be nice—there might even be free food. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Aight, sounds good,” Bow said. “Uh, you gonna come back down? I think they’re gonna play Uno.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora perked up—she loved Uno, despite not being any good at the deception it often required. With a nod, she followed Bow back to the party. Texting Catra to clear things up was tempting, but she tended to not respond if they’d just been arguing; probably best to give her a few days to cool off.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">—</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Fuck, I’m late. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After studying in a hidden spot in the chemistry building for four straight hours, she’d fallen asleep. The GSA meeting would nearly be over by the time she got there, but Scorpia had repeatedly texted her that she needed to get there <em>like</em> <em>right now. </em>Catra knew she wouldn’t hear the end of it if she ignored something like that, so she found herself darting across campus, struggling to jog as her messenger bag crashed against her leg with every step.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Truth be told, the impromptu nap had been borne out of sheer exhaustion and stress. While classes ramped down, the worry over finals ramped up in equal measure, and Catra was moreso the <em>study at the last minute, get straight As anyway </em>type. That meant the next few days were going to be hell. She’d pass everything with flying colors for sure, but it was going to <em>hurt.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">On a positive note, at least the philosophy project was finally finished. After biking home and stumbling in the night before, she’d hurriedly typed up the last bit of the document, adding a few poetic flourishes and references to class texts. Her phone notified her this morning that Adora had left a few comments on the Google doc, but Catra didn’t read them. No texts from Adora, though—Catra took that to mean that she was being given <em>space, </em>which for some reason only pissed her off more. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She’d overreacted. She knew that. The fact that Adora was still standing down, taking her bullshit, and <em>giving her space</em> was almost offensive. Though on the other hand, Catra felt that she <em>did </em>have the right to be angry about old shit—especially when Adora, to this day, couldn’t give her a satisfying answer. There was no way she knew how deeply she’d cut Catra by leaving, but even without that knowledge, it was plain fact that Adora had thrown away all their years together just to go to some other fucking school. It was plain fact that they used to tell each other everything, until they didn’t.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Stop. Stop it. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was no point in driving herself nuts over old shit that clearly had no resolution. She swallowed her anger and attempted a neutral, pleasant look as she pushed open the door. The club meeting was probably over, but most folks usually stayed a few minutes after to chit-chat—</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Catra stopped short, heart hammering against her ribcage, her eyes glued to a blonde—about 5’6, ugly red jacket, weird hair poof, arm in a sling, eating a scone… sporting a name tag that read “Adora” with a little smiley face, she/her pronouns, and…</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Lesbian?</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Not all the club members wrote their sexuality on their name tags—some did it if they were new and wanted to discuss it, or whatever—but of course Adora had, being a details person. But that meant…</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, Wildcat, there you are,” Scorpia whispered as she came in close, leaning by Catra’s ear. “Took you long enough. <em>But look who’s here!</em>”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Scorpia,” Catra said quietly, gritting her teeth.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh man, this is so great. She walked in with Bow and I was just like, dude, no way, right—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Scorpia.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“—and gosh, maybe you can talk—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“<em>Scorpia,</em>” Catra shouted, startling everyone else in the room. Her body was alight, a seething storm of embarrassment and wrath thrumming through her veins as everyone—including Adora—turned to her. Without another word, she slipped back into the hallway and leaned heavily against the wall, suppressing a scream.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Right on cue, Adora appeared, half-eaten scone in hand. She looked as shell-shocked as Catra felt. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re, uh, in the club?” Adora mumbled, gesturing at the door with her pastry. Wordlessly, Catra nodded, refusing to meet her eyes. “Oh, cool. So, are you, like—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A lesbian,” Catra muttered. Might as well lay out all the cards now.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora chuckled nervously, stuffing more scone into her face right before she talked, spewing a few crumbs. “Cool, cool. Funny how it never came up, I guess—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Adora.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“…yeah?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Putting her feelings into words seemed impossible, but above all, she was crushed. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">If Adora had been gay <em>this whole time</em>, she would have made a move by now—<em>if</em> she was interested. The only logical conclusion that Catra could draw was that Adora didn’t see her like that. Probably never had, probably never would. The pain was seductive, drawing her into a dark haze of despair. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora wasn’t unattainable because she was straight; she was unattainable simply because she <em>didn’t want Catra</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The world was an ocean of hurt, and Catra sank to the bottom.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why didn’t you tell me?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Tell you what?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That you were gay, you fucking—” Catra inhaled sharply, fighting the urge to be cruel, but losing fast. “It’s like I said. We used to tell each other everything, and now we don’t tell each other <em>shit.</em>”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Now finished with her scone, Adora used her good arm to gesticulate wildly between her and Catra as if to prove some point. “You didn’t tell me either!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>It’s not like I wasn’t totally oblivious myself until like three months ago, </em>Catra wanted to scream, but didn’t. Instead, she went for the throat.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not the one who has a history of hiding important shit, Adora.” She pushed off the wall and stalked closer to the wide-eyed blonde, feeling the flush over her skin and painfully aware that she was shaking, but not in the mood to give a shit. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This, this whole,” she gestured between them with a hand, “this whole thing isn’t fucking working. I don’t trust you, and you obviously don’t trust me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Catra—“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fucking save it. I’m done. I don’t want to deal with this shit anymore. Not you,” she poked a finger into Adora’s chest, “not Weaver, not the shit from high school. None of it. I’m done.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As she turned to walk away, Adora’s hand clamped painfully around her wrist. Catra tried to fling it off, but Adora just tightened her grip and forced her to turn.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I thought we were friends again,” Adora mumbled. A few tears trailed down her cheeks. Catra bit her lip, choking back a sob of her own. “I don’t understand.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t fucking <em>want </em>to be friends, Adora, I want—” Her chest tightened, pulling back the words from her lips. What if she said what she felt? What if she was honest? What if, for one moment, life was like a stupid kid’s story, and confessing would open the door to… something else?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">What if that idea was totally bullshit, and Adora, despite everything, still didn’t want her?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Suddenly eerily, placidly calm, Catra looked Adora dead in the eyes. “I want you to leave me alone.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Adora’s grasp loosened as her face broke. The tears came more freely, dripping from her chin and leaving little spots on her jacket. Catra ripped her wrist away and took off down the hallway, driven by the overwhelming desire to be anywhere else but <em>here</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She held back the tears until she made it outside, her flushed skin chilled by the cool air. Arms wrapped tightly around herself, jaw clenched, mind crying out for what she’d broken, Catra wept.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>okay listen do NOT come for me, on GOD shit's about to get better i SWEAR im so excited for the next chapter you dont even KNOW</p><p>how are we doing? leave a comment and let me know! as always, thanks for reading.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. we sink</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Adora takes a nap; Glimmer has a drink; Bow is a badass; Catra trips.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>the title of this chapter is taken from 'we sink' by CHVRCHES (it's a very catradora song, trust me).</p><p>mild content warning for a bit of violence (nothing graphic). also, in case it isn't clear, there is NO sexual assault of any kind in this fic, nor will there be, but there is some traumatic shit inbound in this chapter.</p><p>lastly, sorry for taking so long to update! life is a kick in the whole ass sometimes!!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="u"> <b>winter break</b> </span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Bow stood by Adora’s bedroom door, fist poised to knock. </p><p class="p1">The Best Friends Squad had barely seen each other during finals week, which made sense, but they were now three days into winter break and Adora only came out of her room to eat or get a glass of water. Glimmer was puzzled, then frustrated by her roommate’s silence, but Bow had filled her in.</p><p class="p1">Something <em>terrible </em>had happened at the last GSA meeting of the semester. Bow only witnessed part of it, but what he overheard from the hallway painted a fairly clear picture; Adora and Catra argued about something—which honestly seemed to be normal for them—but this time was different. After the hallway went quiet, Bow found Adora curled up on the floor sobbing so hard that she could barely breathe. Bow could only hug her gently, help her stand, and take her home. For days she barely spoke, refusing to talk about whatever it was—but by the middle of finals week, the stress had bubbled out of her and she let the story loose to him in a flood.</p><p class="p1">This was no ordinary verbal sparring match. Catra had bailed for good, and Adora blamed herself (of course). Bow listened for an hour as she went on about how they’d fought, then made up, then fought over and over throughout the semester, only for it to cataclysmically come to a head in that hallway. What Bow gathered from Adora’s weeping explanation was basically that she felt even more at a loss than from the high school split, because that schism had been so lacking in closure that hoping for a resolution was almost easy (compared to what <em>this </em>fight was). This argument, this chasm felt entirely different—there was closure of the worst kind. In her eyes, Catra was <em>done</em>—because she’d said exactly that—and Adora was left inconsolable. It was all she could do to get out of bed in the morning and take her finals.</p><p class="p1">Bow—luckily having a fairly light exam load this semester—did what he could to help, since Glimmer had a lot on her plate too. Glimmer only noticed that Adora was going through something a lot more serious than finals stress after winter break had already started, but now that she was clued in, she was <em>worried. </em></p><p class="p1">“Bow, come on,” Glimmer said, hushed but insistent. “Knock already.”</p><p class="p1">“Okay, okay,” he murmured back. He gently rapped on the door twice, listening for signs of life. “Adora? You in there?”</p><p class="p1">After a moment, Bow heard the rustling of blankets and a few soft footsteps. The door remained closed.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah?” Adora said, barely loud enough to be heard.</p><p class="p1">“We’re gonna head out now and we wanted to say bye, so…”</p><p class="p1">“Adora, come on,” Glimmer cut in, leaning on the door frame. At Bow’s frustrated look, she sighed and softened her tone. “Can you come out? Just for a sec?”</p><p class="p1">A beat passed, then two. Glimmer opened her mouth to ask again when the door creaked open, revealing a pair of sunken blue eyes and a tight-lipped grimace. Despite Adora’s musculature, her slouched posture made her tank top hang off her body as if she were thin as a rail.</p><p class="p1">“Bye, guys. Have fun,” Adora murmured, already closing the door again. Bow held it open with a hand, looking at her beseechingly.</p><p class="p1">“Are you sure you don’t want to come down south with us? My dads would love to see you, and I’m sure Glimmer’s parents—”</p><p class="p1">“They really miss you!” Glimmer interjected with more than a little forced cheer. “You could stay with me. My dad might even be in town, so—”</p><p class="p1">“Thanks, guys, but I’m good,” Adora said, finally meeting their eyes. Bow nearly wept from how bone-tired and rotten she looked; if she was showing <em>that </em>much on her face, the way she felt on the inside was probably a hundred times worse. “I don’t want to be a burden or anything, and I gotta focus on resting my shoulder, so…”</p><p class="p1">Glimmer groaned. “You’re not a <em>burden, </em>Adora—”</p><p class="p1">“—plus I’m a bit low on cash, and—”</p><p class="p1">“You wouldn’t have to pay for—”</p><p class="p1">“Glimm, stop,” Bow cut in quietly, placing a hand on Glimmer's shoulder and squeezing gently. He ignored her incredulous look, instead turning to Adora with a small smile. She’d made up her mind; there was no way to change it now. “Can we have a hug before we go, at least?”</p><p class="p1">With a small nod, Adora fully opened the door. She held her arms out without a word, lip trembling, and let herself be embraced. The three of them stood like that for a minute; Bow didn’t know what to say, or if he should say anything—Adora liked to listen, <em>loved </em>to help, but giving her advice was like talking to a brick wall. Whatever this <em>thing</em> was, she would insist on figuring it out alone.</p><p class="p1">“Take care of yourself,” Bow whispered, giving one final squeeze before the three of them broke apart.</p><p class="p1">Later, after having been on the road for a few hours, Glimmer gave Bow a sad look from the passenger seat. She leaned over to turn down the music—an 80s mix that Bow had long ago used to give Adora a little <em>education</em>—and sighed.</p><p class="p1">“Do you think she’ll be okay?” Glimmer asked. They crested a hill, passing under the long shadows of redwood trees cast by the bright light of late morning.</p><p class="p1">Bow thought for a moment. Adora had been through a lot—growing up in foster care under the thumb of a crazy, abusive asshole, ripping herself away from everything she’d known and cared about, heading straight to college with big aspirations already set, being a full-time athlete all the while… but she’d always come out right side up, if a little scuffed.</p><p class="p1">Still, this felt different. For the first time ever, Adora seemed like she was <em>breaking. </em></p><p class="p1">All they could do was be there and support her—when she let them.</p><p class="p1">“She’ll be fine, Glimm.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Bags packed and ready by the door, check. Drop off beautiful, muscular, sweet girlfriend at the airport, almost check—said girlfriend just had one thing to do first.</p><p class="p1">Perfuma smiled as Scorpia knocked hesitantly on Catra’s bedroom door, though definitely not loud enough to be heard over the music blaring from within. Oddly enough, Catra was blasting what sounded curiously like Carly Rae Jepsen or some similar pop artist, which was about the last thing Perfuma expected to ever hear coming from Catra’s room.</p><p class="p1">With a deep sigh, Scorpia backed away from the door and came over to Perfuma, lacing their fingers together. After leaving a gentle kiss on her cheek, Perfuma met Scorpia’s eyes.</p><p class="p1">“Are you okay, sweetie?” With a small smile, Perfuma brushed at Scorpia’s frown lines using her thumb, but the creases deepened.</p><p class="p1">“Me? I’m fine, it’s just… I’m worried about her,” Scorpia said, tilting her head at Catra’s door.</p><p class="p1">“You wanna talk about it?”</p><p class="p1">Scorpia nodded. They sat down on the couch, hand in hand. “I feel like it’s my fault, you know? I’m the one who told her to come because Adora was there, and—”</p><p class="p1">“Hey,” Perfuma softly cut in, rubbing circles into Scorpia’s hand with her thumb. “It isn’t your fault. You didn’t know it would… end up like that.”</p><p class="p1">“I guess, but…” Scorpia blinked away a tear, lip trembling. “I thought she’d be happy! I don’t get it.”</p><p class="p1">Perfuma sighed. From an outsider’s perspective, the argument seemed almost stupid. Despite her best efforts, Catra clearly felt deeply for Adora, and judging by the <em>incredibly </em>electric dance between the two of them that Perfuma had witnessed way back at the Halloween dance, the feeling was probably mutual.</p><p class="p1">So why had they fought so viciously? No one knew but them—if they could even explain, which they probably couldn’t. It felt almost wrong to ponder over other people’s business like this, but Perfuma was searching for a way to reassure her girlfriend.</p><p class="p1">“They have a lot of history, and probably a lot to talk about,” Perfuma said slowly, carefully picking her words. “I think maybe it was a ‘too much, too soon’ sort of thing. Catra’s clearly got a lot to think about, sweetie.”</p><p class="p1">“Do you think you could talk to her again?” Scorpia asked, eyes pleading. Her grip on Perfuma’s hands tightened. “After you did last time, she seemed so calm… maybe you can even get her and Adora to talk!”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, I…” Perfuma paused. Right now, Perfuma had her own issues to worry about. She was scheduled for surgery a few days after Scorpia left, which would be a trial in and of itself—dealing with doctors, recovery time, the whole deal. If she asked herself whether or not she had the energy to take <em>this </em>mess on as well, the answer was a solid <em>no.</em></p><p class="p1">Yes, she’d given Catra some advice, but that took a lot more out of her than Scorpia knew. Fielding topics and discussions in GSA was one thing, but attempting to take on the burdens of a hurt, troubled, <em>confused </em>person was an entirely different animal. She’d already overstepped some bounds by nearly forcing Catra into that conversation, and only because Scorpia had asked. Even the thought of confronting Catra when she was like this—almost reminding Perfuma of the rawest, lowest version of <em>herself</em>—triggered an anxious stomach roll. There were darker facets of her, angry and fearful, that people didn’t see only because she spent part of every day cultivating her own personal sense of peace—a peace that could easily be shattered by getting too invested in what Catra was going through.</p><p class="p1">Besides, anyone entering the poor girl’s space right now was cruising for a serious bruising. The few times she’d left her room to go to the bathroom or grab something from the kitchen, her eyes carried the threat of violence.</p><p class="p1">Perfuma cleared her throat. “Not this time. I think she’s got some things to work through on her own.”</p><p class="p1">“But—”</p><p class="p1">“Just give her space, sweetheart. Okay? Now we should get you to the airport, or you’ll miss your flight.”</p><p class="p1">Scorpia nodded slowly and went to grab her things. She sent one last forlorn look at Catra’s door before leaving the apartment hand in hand with Perfuma.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">There were few things more enjoyable for Entrapta than scoping out the town. Since the majority of people had left for winter break, there were new and interesting patterns to observe: a shift in traffic, a change in sounds, an overall difference in…</p><p class="p1"><em>What would Catra call it? Ah, yes—the </em>vibe<em>.</em></p><p class="p1">At present, Entrapta walked down a side street she’d had yet to explore, noting the buildings; lots of townhouses, most likely intende for the wealthier portions of the student population or local families who couldn’t afford to buy property. They all looked fairly new and spacious, probably considered a benefit by most people. Entrapta disagreed; she preferred the small, old apartment she split with Scorpia and Catra, with its nooks, crannies, and plumbing issues. Something always needed tinkering with or adjusting, and she was happy to do it all.</p><p class="p1">Uncovering the intricacies of a device or a system had been her bread and butter as far back as she could remember. The math, the inner workings, the <em>engineering </em>of an object or system came as naturally as breathing—a lot more naturally than figuring out <em>people, </em>at least, though Scorpia and Catra were predictable enough after spending time with them. They each had buttons, habits, likes and dislikes that could flip or be flipped like a switch; Entrapta mentally categorized each of these as she discovered them, filing the details away for future reference.</p><p class="p1">A thing of beauty suddenly caught Entrapta’s eye, cutting her musings short. </p><p class="p1">She quickened her pace to reach an old VW bus parked in the driveway of a nearby townhouse. It was a marvelous creature of panels meant to be opened, covered in a lovely layer of peeling gray paint that cried out for a new coat. She could only dream of what it looked like <em>under the hood—</em></p><p class="p1">“Uh, hi,” came a voice behind her. “Can I—oh, hey, Entrapta.”</p><p class="p1">Adora stood on the lawn, a running hose in hand. Entrapta glanced up at the cloudy sky—it had rained earlier that morning so watering the grass seemed a bit stupid, but oh well. Most of the water was going into a muddy divot in the lawn as if Adora had only been watering that one spot for an hour.</p><p class="p1">“Cool car, right?” Adora asked. She looked <em>tired, </em>like she’d just woken up or hadn’t slept in a long time. Even her posture was different, slouched slightly. Maybe she had back problems. “It doesn’t run, but I’m trying to save up so I can fix it.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, that’s easy. I just need to grab my toolbox…” Entrapta said, trailing off and muttering to herself. She began walking back towards her own apartment, already making a mental list. Her tools should be more than adequate for a small project like this and any parts that needed replacing would be easily found on eBay or elsewhere. The van didn’t look <em>that </em>bad, though; probably just needed some love, a little tune-up…</p><p class="p1">“Wait, what?” Adora ran to shut off the spigot, then jogged to catch up with Entrapta as she walked. “Who to the what now?”</p><p class="p1">“I’ve taken apart tons of cars and put them back together again.” Entrapta paused. “Hmm. Mostly. It’ll be a piece of cake.”</p><p class="p1">“Wha—for free?” Adora sputtered, stumbling over her own feet. Entrapta wasn’t sure what there was to misunderstand; fixing the van would be a delight. Who wouldn’t offer to do it if they could?</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Adora managed to drag herself of bed by 10am, though not before staring up at the ceiling for an hour first. Her room was messier than usual; a pair of socks on the floor, a hair brush left out of the drawer…a disaster, really. Not having the energy to tidy, Adora used what willpower she <em>did </em>have to check herself out in the full-body mirror hanging from the closet door.</p><p class="p1">The deep bags under her eyes had become old friends over the past couple of weeks, along with the deep crease between her eyebrows. With a sigh, Adora pulled her hair into a slack bun; her signature poof was a little deflated, but she’d given up hope of looking presentable anyway. After pulling on a pair of sweats and a loose hoodie, Adora left the house and walked in the direction of downtown.</p><p class="p1">Not that “downtown” was really an accurate description; it was more like a plaza lined by some old-timey buildings left over from when the town was built, long since repurposed into restaurants, bars, and the like, as well as some small modern condos. The Saturday farmer's market was in full swing, overtaking the plaza with stalls and trucks. Adora found herself contemplating the menu of the Cambodian food truck when another stall in the distance caught her eye; she didn’t feel much like eating anyway, hadn’t really felt hungry for most of winter break for that matter, so (for probably the first time in her life) the thought of food was easily pushed aside.</p><p class="p1">The other stall was full of trinkets like necklaces, earrings, lots of shiny stuff that Glimmer and Bow tended to wear. Christmas had already passed—Adora knew that her friends were bringing back presents from down south, but she had yet to get them anything. She went through a mental list of people who should get a gift: Mermista, some of the other crew team girls, maybe Huntara (if the surly coach was in a good enough mood to receive one), <em>definitely </em>Entrapta as a way to say thanks for working on the VW bus.</p><p class="p1">Eh, a pink quartz necklace for Glimmer and a pair of arrow earrings for Bow was good enough for now—Mermista and the other crew girls would probably appreciate a sensible gift card, but Entrapta would take a lot of thought.</p><p class="p1">There was definitely someone missing from her list, but Adora was too tired and overwhelmed by the bustle of the crowd to place the name or face. She turned away from the stall, gifts in hand, and froze. Coincidentally, the name she’d been forgetting suddenly appeared in her mind with all the grace of a car crash.</p><p class="p1">Catra was perusing a stall on the other side of the plaza, decked out in a ratty hoodie and jeans combo that looked more worn out than Adora felt. She was holding some sort of vegetable to her face and…sniffing it? Whatever it smelled like, Catra didn’t like it; Adora watched as she placed the vegetable down and meandered off to another stall nearby.</p><p class="p1">Adora’s phone became a massive weight in her pocket. She’d sent a veritable <em>shitload </em>of texts during finals week, for once not able to control her anxiety over being <em>too much, </em>and Catra hadn’t even replied to Adora’s text saying that the project was finished and submitted.</p><p class="p1">But it was <em>Catra, </em>she who always pushed away and left a vacuum in her wake. Adora had spent most of winter break tortuously going over what had happened after the GSA meeting; she must have picked it apart, second by second, word by word, desperately searching for which straw had broken the camel’s back. She simply <em>did not understand—</em>a feeling that haunted her more than any other, these days.</p><p class="p1">Adora watched Catra vanish into the crowd, mental wheels grinding along what had become a well-worn route. If Catra was also a lesbian—which, by the way, <em>what the fuck—</em>then what was the problem? What could have been a cool moment of <em>wow, same </em>had exploded into the most confusing and one-sided argument that Adora had ever witnessed. Then Catra stormed out, never responded to one of Adora’s weepy, confused, overly-apologetic text avalanches, and that had been that.</p><p class="p1">Still, an innocent, hopeful part of her heart thought that maybe Catra would like a late Christmas gift, though the logical side of her brain—which didn’t seem to be getting a lot of use, these days—screamed in protest. Emotion and nostalgia won out; Adora left the farmer’s market with Bow and Glimmer’s gifts in a bag, plus a little wrapped package in hand.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><b> <em>Scorpy: </em> </b> <em>So how’s town? Empty?</em></p><p class="p1">Catra viewed the chaos of the frat house living room with half-lidded eyes and chuckled. There had already been <em>two </em>fistfights, several raucous rounds of beer pong, <em>and</em> someone had stripped naked and ran around the house. What more could you ask for?</p><p class="p1">&gt; <em>yeah, pretty boring</em></p><p class="p1"><b> <em>Scorpy: </em> </b> <em>Aww. Well I’ll be back tomorrow so maybe we can do something before school starts?</em></p><p class="p1">
  <em>&gt; sure</em>
</p><p class="p1">If that hangout went similarly to the time they spent together before Scorpia left to visit family in Toronto, Catra would probably end up snapping and fighting with the poor girl over something utterly stupid. She was in grade-A asshole mode and she knew it, but the train had already left the station.</p><p class="p1">A nudge to Catra’s knee drew her eyes away from the phone. Lonnie—backed by Rogelio, but no Kyle—looked down at her, solo cup in hand. Catra nodded to the girl and signed a greeting to Rogelio, who responded in kind, but Lonnie merely frowned.</p><p class="p1">“You good, Catra?” Lonnie shouted over the thumping music, gesturing vaguely with a hand. Catra looked down at herself—aside from the nearly full beer and a few shots that she’d accidentally spilled on the hoodie, she was fine. Slouched into an armchair almost to the point of being horizontal, totally trashed at 8pm, and nearly asleep, sure—but she was fine.</p><p class="p1">“Right as rain, my dudes,” Catra slurred. She chuckled, the bitter sound slightly lost in the hood drawn almost entirely over her face. “The question is…are <em>you </em>good?”</p><p class="p1">Rogelio averted his eyes and covered a smile with his hand. Catra found herself under the <em>weirdest </em>look Lonnie had ever shot her way—dull anger, tiredness, maybe even a little <em>concern.</em></p><p class="p1">
  <em>The fuck is she on?</em>
</p><p class="p1">“Have it your way, man,” Lonnie grunted, leaving with Rogelio before Catra could muddle through an indignant reply. She shrugged and took a proffered shot from a nearby frat brother, downing it with a wince. She glared daggers at the back of Lonnie’s head across the room.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Wonder what the fuck that was. </em>
</p><p class="p1">Unfortunately for Catra’s liver, most of winter break had looked a lot like this, surrounded by a horde (ha-ha) of horny dudes who couldn’t keep their hands or eyes to themselves, though at least they were equally as loose with the drinks. Against some anonymous, imaginary antagonist, Catra mentally defended her less-than-stellar activities with the fact that she was only at the Horde house twice a week or so rather than everyday. On the flip side, she’d been drinking a <em>lot </em>more than usual, but that was neither here nor there.</p><p class="p1">Or was it? Catra had no idea; she was hammered, exhausted though she’d been sitting on her ass all break, and could give a shit less. Spring semester would start in a few days, and Catra’s savings were running low a lot faster than anticipated. She should probably be looking for a job but the thought of balancing work <em>and</em> school was gag-inducing.</p><p class="p1">Within a half hour there was little more that booze could do to distract her. She left the house without a word and trudged home, the drunken warmth in her belly somewhat shielding her from the winter chill.</p><p class="p1">After stumbling up the stairs, Catra nearly stepped on the tiny wrapped package sitting on the welcome mat outside of her front door. Cheerful wrapping paper covered in Santas and penguins, a bow, the whole deal. Despite her inebriation, she came to the conclusion that someone had left it intentionally.</p><p class="p1">After picking it up and lurching her way to her bedroom—noting somewhere way in the back of her mind that Entrapta wasn’t home yet again, and an even deeper part wondering where the <em>hell </em>she’d been all break—Catra took another look at the tiny box. It didn’t look mass-produced; the haphazard wrapping and bow seeming more like something from a local store. There was a tiny piece of paper tied onto it that Catra flipped over.</p><p class="p1">In achingly familiar, perfect handwriting, it read: <em>Merry (late) Christmas. I’m sorry.</em></p><p class="p1">A breath, then two; inhale, exhale, and again. Having successfully restrained a scream, Catra—hands shaking, palms sweating despite the slight chill from walking home—gently tore open the paper and turned the plain white box over in her hands. Her glazed eyes were barely able to focus as she slowly took the lid off, full of dread and anticipation.</p><p class="p1">A smooth blue pebble—similar in color to Adora’s eyes in the right light, Catra thought—lay nested in foam padding, delicately engraved with the word <em>Promise </em>in gold leaf.</p><p class="p1">Catra’s hands shook as she fumbled to put the lid back on, nearly crushing the box. It felt awkward in her hands, uninvited but desired, an object of her hatred as well as her affection. She ripped open her desk drawer, shoved the box inside, and slammed it shut.</p><p class="p1"><em>You fucking idiot. You absolute fucking dumbass, </em>Catra raged, sinking to her futon and struggling to breathe through a sudden surge of desperate tears. She couldn’t be sure if she was thinking about Adora or herself.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="u"> <b>spring</b> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">For once, the semester had gone off without a hitch. She had a heavy but manageable class load, and working at the gym went as swimmingly as ever. Adora felt mostly fine about everything.</p><p class="p1">Well, everything except for two critical pieces of the puzzle that haunted her to no end.</p><p class="p1">For one thing, her shoulder hadn’t even come close to fully healing over break. The twinge she had on the first day of practice grew to a full-blown stab by the end of the first month; now March was nearly over and the constant ache was torture.</p><p class="p1">Getting home from the first real race of the season was always bittersweet. Adora’s shoulder screamed like it’d been hit with a sledgehammer, but at least they'd (narrowly) won. She had something else to look forward to for spring break, too; Bow had finally pulled together the camping trip they’d always talked about. With the help of the new and improved VW bus (courtesy of Entrapta), they intended to find a deep spot in the woods and relax for a few days. Adora couldn’t think of a better way to spend break.</p><p class="p1">She gently rolled her sore shoulder in its socket on her way to the driveway where Entrapta was giving the bus a final once-over. Her performance at the race had honestly scared her shitless—it should have been an easy win, but Adora's injury, they’d barely scraped into first. As Coach Huntara always said, Adora really <em>was </em>the backbone of the team; when something was up with her the whole vibe went south and morale plummeted. It was a domino effect, all leading back to a stupid game of rugby the previous semester and one huge distraction named <em>Catra</em>, though she couldn’t be blamed for Adora acting like a damned idiot.</p><p class="p1">There had been no word from Catra, and Adora hadn’t seen her on campus so far—not even once. It was hard not to worry, or to wonder, but any question sent Entrapta’s way about the matter had been met with “Oh, she’s fine!” or “Hmm, haven’t seen her lately.” Bow reached out to Perfuma a few times but she’d been equally tight-lipped. The lack of information only made Adora worry that much more.</p><p class="p1">Entrapta shut the hood of the bus and spun around to face Adora with a wide smile. “All righty, she’s all yours! Took me a little longer than I expected but—” she whistled, glancing at the bus with love, “—some of these parts are hard to find! You take good care of Darla, now!”</p><p class="p1">“Uh, Darla?”</p><p class="p1">“Yes!” Without a backward look, Entrapta took off down the street, humming happily.</p><p class="p1">Adora glanced at the bus, then back to Entrapta as the girl disappeared around a corner. She’d definitely have to find a better way to pay the girl back for all the work, though Adora figured Entrapta was probably rich, bored, and nerdy enough to refuse compensation.</p><p class="p1">“Is Darla ready?” Bow asked, walking up with two duffel bags in hand and a six-pack of beer tucked under his arm. Adora nearly groaned—sometimes, it felt like she was the last person to know about <em>everything. </em>For Christ’s sake, it was <em>her </em>car…though it was probably fair to let Entrapta name the thing she’d basically rebuilt.</p><p class="p1">“She sure is. Glimmer still a no-go?”</p><p class="p1">Bow huffed. “Yeah, no good. She wouldn’t listen to me about the bonfire thing, so she’s still going.”</p><p class="p1">Adora slid into the driver’s seat, running her hands over the vintage leather wheel cover. Mara had clearly maintained the van well; it probably wouldn’t have crapped out at all if it wasn’t so <em>old. </em>Adora faintly remembered her old friend telling her that the bus had been a gift from her grandmother or something like that.</p><p class="p1">Bow settled the duffel bags and beer into the back, which was basically a small room with a cushioned bench at the rear of the car. It even had the original shag carpet, which Adora found detestable, but hey—Mara had basically given her the van for next to nothing. It was a shame that Entrapta was no wunderkind with upholstery, though.</p><p class="p1">Sharing a grin with Bow as he slid into the passenger seat, Adora turned the key with baited breath. The engine rumbled perfectly, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Now came the fun part: using the stick shift.</p><p class="p1">YouTube videos were a godsend, but nothing compared to the real deal. There were some fits and starts as they made their way out of town and onto the tree-lined highway, but Adora got the hang of it pretty quick. She could see Bow studying her movements out of the corner of her eye—she’d also made him watch the videos in case they wanted to drive in shifts, or if there was a horrible accident that left Adora incapable of driving. She absently noted that maybe that kind of anxiety wasn’t <em>normal </em>per se, but that wasn’t important right now. What was important was pushing all thoughts of Catra, school, work, and sports from her mind as she focused on operating the damned stick shift properly.</p><p class="p1">Listening to Cher's greatest hits and driving through a sea of trees became hypnotic after a time. Adora decided to spark a little conversation. “So, Glimmer’s going to the bonfire.”</p><p class="p1">Bow sighed. “Yep.”</p><p class="p1">“The Horde bonfire. At the cliffs.”</p><p class="p1">“Double yep.”</p><p class="p1">“You didn’t talk her out of it?”</p><p class="p1">“Bro, I <em>tried,</em>” Bow groaned, thumping his head against the window. “She said it’s for the journalism project thingy. <em>I</em> said that it wasn’t safe, and <em>she</em> called me a dumbass, and...well, you know how stubborn she is. We should have cell service if anything goes bad, though, and the cliffs are like, what…fifteen minutes away?”</p><p class="p1">Adora snorted, shifting gears as they crested a hill. The bus was actually really fun to drive, chugging along like a tiny train. Plus, driving stick was probably a guaranteed way to intrigue the ladies—as if she had any interest in that.</p><p class="p1">“Y’know, I think she and Catra could’ve been really good friends,” Adora muttered, not fully intending for Bow to hear, but he did.</p><p class="p1">“She didn’t text you about the Christmas gift, huh?”</p><p class="p1">“No. Not a word.” She blinked away a few tears, finding it odd that it still hurt so <em>badly </em>after months had gone by. “Didn’t reply to any of my other billion texts, either.”</p><p class="p1">“Adora…” Bow murmured, his eyes on the stick as Adora shifted gears to come around a corner. “Do you…have feelings for her?”</p><p class="p1">Adora sputtered, her hand nearly jerking the bus into neutral. “No, what? I—”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Wait.</em>
</p><p class="p1">A million small things flooded her mind, crushing the air from her lungs. It was true, wasn’t it? That Adora had wanted Catra to kiss her at the Halloween dance; that despite herself, she was <em>deeply </em>interested in whether or not Catra was finally dating and relieved to hear she wasn’t; that Adora couldn’t help but let her eyes linger over Catra’s hands, her face under the streetlight as they biked, the way her clothes flowed around her body…the thin, fragile moment of excitement she had felt seeing Catra at the GSA meeting before it all went to shit.</p><p class="p1">It all meant <em>something.</em></p><p class="p1">This was far beyond a passing interest, excitement at renewing a friendship, or a curiosity. <em>This</em> was something more intense, a bone-deep feeling that had been present all of her life; it was the lens through which she viewed the world. The stark realization made Adora’s head spin with embarrassment and…something else. Something that twisted her stomach into a knot and blurred the trees lining the side of the road into brown, red, and green.</p><p class="p1">“Adora?”</p><p class="p1">“I <em>do</em> feel that way about her,” Adora breathed, eyes wide. “I didn’t see it before, I guess. I’m...such a fucking idiot.”</p><p class="p1">Bow sighed, but didn’t seem shocked. Adora blushed as she realized he’d probably realized her feelings long before she had. “I’m sorry, dude. That’s rough.”</p><p class="p1">“Bow, I think…I think I lo—”</p><p class="p1">Adora shouted and swerved as a deer ran across the road barely ten feet in front of them, missing the bus by a foot as they swerved.</p><p class="p1">“Holy fuck,” Bow breathed, a hand on his chest. Slowly, Adora relaxed her painful grip on the wheel, barely registering what had just happened—her mind was still spinning in a Catra-shaped loop, now bolstered by adrenaline.</p><p class="p1">“I—I really fucked it all up, didn’t I?” Her words came loose, fast, burning with desperation and regret. “This whole time, I could’ve <em>done something,</em> but I fucked it up.”</p><p class="p1">“No, man.” Bow put a hand on her shoulder, just firm enough to still the shaking of her arm. “It’s not your fault. You guys have a lot of history, and I don’t know if it’s my place, but…”</p><p class="p1">“But what?”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t think she was in the healthiest place,” Bow mumbled. “Most of the time, she was downright anxious, or snappy, like she was always on the defense. And man she can <em>drink—</em>”</p><p class="p1">“I know, I know.” They rode in silence for a few minutes. Another half hour or so and the campground would be in sight, beckoning to Adora with the promise of a quiet night, just getting buzzed with Bow by a crackling fire.</p><p class="p1">“I wish she would talk to me,” Adora suddenly whispered. Bow lifted his head from where he’d been resting it on the window and looked at her, calm and pensive.</p><p class="p1">“Give it more time, bro,” Bow said simply. “Maybe she’ll come around.” At that, the campground came into view, and Adora pulled onto the exit.</p><p class="p1">A few hours—and beers—later, they found themselves pleasantly warmed by the fire. To be fair, Bow’d only had one beer like an hour ago; meanwhile, Adora was already buzzed enough by her third drink to feel like she was about to sink into the ground and disappear.</p><p class="p1">That would have been kind of cool, actually, because she still felt like shit. Admiring the campsite and setting up the fire had been a dull, momentary distraction from thinking about Catra. More than anything, Adora hated the enormity of what she didn’t <em>know</em>—where Catra was, what she was doing, <em>how </em>she was doing, and if she was <em>okay. </em>At the very least, Adora desperately wanted to know that Catra was <em>okay.</em></p><p class="p1">Alas, the Coors bottle in her hand held no answers.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, I’ma sleep,” Bow said, standing and brushing himself off with a grunt. “You?”</p><p class="p1">“Naw, be there in a sec,” Adora mumbled. It was weird—she normally felt so goofy and stupid after a few drinks, but in recent months, the few times she’d gone out had been soured by her mood. Even her twenty-first birthday back in January—as much as Glimmer and Bow had tried to make it a fun night of bar-hopping—mainly consisted of moping, taking a shot, moping some more, chugging something without asking what it was first, and a dash of pouting.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Face it. I’m miserable. </em>
</p><p class="p1">Her shoulder ached constantly, her performance in crew was in danger of turning abysmal, she was <em>still </em>worried about classes even though it was spring break and she should be giving less than a shit right now, working at the gym sapped both her strength and her spirit—Adora wanted to scream, to shatter her bottle against a tree, but instead she stared into the flames.</p><p class="p1">After dozing off at some point in her brooding, she woke up on the ground, a twig poking into her cheek. Something was tickling her thigh, but a pounding in her skull drew away her attention. It was still dark out, so she couldn’t have been out for long; probably two or three hours.</p><p class="p1"><em>Oh, it’s my fucking phone</em>. Adora fished her phone from her pocket as she sat up, the world spinning. Glimmer was calling—Adora’s heart nearly pounded out of her chest as she answered.</p><p class="p1">“Glimmer? Is everything—”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Adora?” </em>
</p><p class="p1">It wasn’t Glimmer’s voice, not even close. It was—</p><p class="p1">“<em>Catra? </em>What—”</p><p class="p1"><em>“You don’t seem too happy to hear from me,” </em>came the garbled reply. <em>“Adora, Glimmer’son her way to your place in an Uber. I think someone drugged—”</em></p><p class="p1">“Wait, wait, what? You’re with Glimmer? At the bonfire?”</p><p class="p1"><em>“Yeah, but—hey, don’t </em>fucking <em>touch her!” </em>The other end of the call erupted in shouting, a mix of Catra’s voice and what sounded like several men. <em>“Fuck, Adora, just listen!”</em></p><p class="p1">A beat, then two. <em>“Adora, I’m sorry. For everything.”</em></p><p class="p1">The call ended with a silence so heavy that Adora nearly wept. She frantically kicked dirt over the dim fire and ran to Bow in his sleeping bag, shaking him awake with all the grace of a bullfight.</p><p class="p1">“Fuck, man, what is it?” Bow grunted, squinting at her in the dull moonlight.</p><p class="p1">“We need to go <em>right now.</em>” Adora collected the beer bottles and tossed them in a nearby trash can with the speed of a lightning strike as Bow groggily bundled up the sleeping bags. It was only when they were already speeding along the highway that Adora finally spoke.</p><p class="p1">“I need you to call Perfuma <em>right now. </em>Catra called me, said Glimmer’s in trouble and she’s in an Uber to our house, and there was fighting, and—”</p><p class="p1">“Wha—”</p><p class="p1">“Bow, <em>please. </em>Call Perfuma.” The bus complained as Adora nearly shifted into the wrong gear, but she was too preoccupied with her raging thoughts to care. Catra, with Glimmer? At the bonfire? Adora thanked her lucky stars that <em>someone </em>had been watching over Glimmer, but that meant—</p><p class="p1">“What did she say?” Adora asked Bow as he hung up the call with a sigh.</p><p class="p1">“She and Scorpia are on their way to our place. They’ll take care of her, take her to the hospital if she needs it.” Bow leaned back in his seat, shuddering as he exhaled. He looked close to weeping. “Fuck, dude. I hope she’s okay.”</p><p class="p1">“Bow,” Adora muttered. They crested a hill, then another, and Adora knew that the exit that would take them back in the direction of town was approaching fast. “Bow, I—”</p><p class="p1">“We need to get Catra,” Bow said firmly, finishing her thought before she could even fully form it.</p><p class="p1">“But Glimmer—”</p><p class="p1">“She’ll be fine. Scorpia and Perfuma have good heads on their shoulders. Plus, the cliffs are on the way.” He nodded, texting rapidly, probably informing them of the plan. “We need to make sure she’s safe.”</p><p class="p1">“Thank you,” Adora whispered. Her foot pressed harder on the gas.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I just don’t think it’s such a big deal,” the Horde dude was saying. “Like sure, she's drunk, I’m drunk, but if we both <em>want it—”</em></p><p class="p1">“Aight, I’ma get another beer,” Catra muttered through clenched teeth. The guy shrugged as she left, turning to some of the other brothers nearby.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Lame-ass fucking bonfire. At least there’s a nice view over the cliffs. </em>
</p><p class="p1">That couldn’t be denied; earlier, Catra had peeked at the Pacific shining under the moonlight, its choppy waters splashing up against the base of the small cliff somewhere around thirty feet below. Not high enough to be <em>really </em>dangerous, but with a bunch of drunk assholes milling around anything could happen.</p><p class="p1">Lonnie, Kyle, and Rogelio weren’t even around to awkwardly shoot the shit—they had some sort of spring break trip planned, just the three of them (of course). That left Catra with a bunch of Horde dudes that were growing more bothersome by the second, plus a crowd of randos that seemed to hang onto every dumbass word the frat guys said—</p><p class="p1">“<em>Catra? </em>What the fuck?”</p><p class="p1">Nearly dropping her new beer from sheer surprise, Catra turned to find Glimmer gawking at her, pink flask in one hand, phone in the other. After a second, it was clear that Glimmer was already fairly drunk; she wobbled every so slightly and her olive skin was just a tad too flushed for just being a little cold. The Uber app faded as the phone screen went dark—it was pretty late, and Glimmer was clearly a bit strung out, so Catra was relieved that the girl was leaving soon. For a variety of reasons.</p><p class="p1">“Uh, hey,” Catra muttered, attempting a casual pull from her beer. “What’s up?”</p><p class="p1">“Wha—<em>what’s up?</em>” Glimmer strode forward, coming far too close for comfort, but Catra fought her warring impulses to confront or flee and remained where she was. “Dude, what is wrong with you?”</p><p class="p1">Catra glared down her nose at the girl, taking full advantage of her extra two inches. “Come again?”</p><p class="p1">“You—” Glimmer stabbed a finger into Catra’s chest as she slurred, nearly knocking her off balance, “—fucking <em>left </em>Adora, dude. In the goddamn dirt. You broke her fucking heart.”</p><p class="p1">Catra could have laughed at the bitter irony; a younger version of herself might have started shouting, even swinging, but all she felt was a tender wave of misery. Her insides were empty, void of all emotion, her bones broken and never able to mend—if there was such a thing as rock bottom, this was it.</p><p class="p1">Catra, breaking Adora’s heart? What a sad, twisted, fucked-up joke.</p><p class="p1">“I’m sure I did,” she muttered. She brushed past Glimmer and sat on a nearby boulder, shoulders and head held low. With an indignant huff, Glimmer followed and planted herself on the ground at Catra’s feet, arms crossed.</p><p class="p1">“What, that’s it? You just—”</p><p class="p1">“Listen, <em>dude,</em>” Catra thundered, her teary eyes snapping up to meet Glimmer’s glare. “Whatever me and Adora had when we were kids, that shit is <em>over. </em>It’s fucking <em>broken,</em> it always was, and we never fucking saw it. We had no chance. It was stupid as hell to even try.”</p><p class="p1">“Catra, that’s fucking bull—”</p><p class="p1">“And why are you even here, anyway? Huh?” Catra barked, desperate for a change of subject. It wasn’t like she hadn’t <em>agonized </em>over when she and Adora had last seen each other; it wasn't like she hadn’t held that tiny engraved rock in her hand and stared it for hours as she blasted Adora’s favorite music. But Glimmer wouldn’t care about any of that—not that Catra would ever tell <em>her.</em></p><p class="p1">“It’s for my journalism project, but you know what?” Glimmer leaned forward, staring up at Catra with hard, determined eyes. “Fuck that. We’re doing this right now.”</p><p class="p1">“Doing <em>what?</em>”</p><p class="p1">“Figuring out what the hell went <em>wrong,</em>” Glimmer said, urgently but less angrily than before. Catra was puzzled. Didn’t Glimmer hate her? Why was she so interested in her fucking business?</p><p class="p1">Glimmer sighed and went on quietly. “You made her so happy, dude. She was <em>so</em> glad to have you back in her life, despite—” she paused, the silence speaking volumes about the years spent full of anger and regret, “—despite everything between you and her, and…you and me.”</p><p class="p1">“I—” Catra bit her lip hard, nearly breaking the skin. She drained a quarter of her beer while Glimmer looked on expectantly, her expression guarded.</p><p class="p1">This was the moment that Catra had never found the strength to manifest. Luckily—or unluckily, she couldn’t decide—a drunk, angry Glimmer was a Glimmer with <em>guts. </em></p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry,” Catra muttered, forcing herself to meet eyes with girl at her feet. “About your mom. I’m so, so sorry.”</p><p class="p1">Glimmer’s eyebrows shot up, her mouth dropping open. She stuttered wordlessly for a moment. “Catra…wow, guess I never really expected that.”</p><p class="p1">“What? An apology?” Catra chucked bitterly. She finished off the dregs of beer in the bottle and placed it on the ground. “Can’t say I blame you. I’m an asshole.”</p><p class="p1">“No, dude, that’s not it at all.”</p><p class="p1">“Nah. It’s facts.” Catra sighed, desperate and gloomy, but now too worn out for tears. Too tired. “You with your mom, Adora, Scorpia—” she winced, a million pointless fights with her roommates over the past few months flashing before her eyes, “—there isn’t anyone left who should give a shit about me. But I deserve it, so…”</p><p class="p1">“Catra—”</p><p class="p1">“Hey ladies, drink up!” yet another faceless, nameless Horde dude shouted, intruding upon their space with the grace of a train wreck. He shoved a solo cup into each of their hands and winked “We’re gonna head down to the beach in a bit and go swimming. You guys down?”</p><p class="p1">“Sure, whatever,” Catra spat. Glimmer shrugged and took a sip, wincing at the bite. “Can you fuck off for like, five minutes?”</p><p class="p1">“Aight, whatevs,” the dude said, backing away with his hands up. “See y’all at the beach, I hope.”</p><p class="p1">“Motherfucker,” Catra muttered, taking a sip of the mystery drink and grimacing. The liquid in the cup looked like yet another strange jungle juice concoction, but it was…fizzing slightly? Didn't seem carbonated, though.</p><p class="p1">“I think you and Adora should talk,” Glimmer said, taking another pull from her cup. She stifled a cough. “Jeez, this shit is terrible.”</p><p class="p1">“What the fuck am I supposed to say, man? ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t cut it. Besides, <em>I</em> <em>had a right to be pissed, </em>like, legit—”</p><p class="p1">“Saying sorry would be a start, at least!” Glimmer cut in, scowling at Catra like she was an idiot. “I don’t know what happened between you guys at the club meeting, or whatever, but—”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, <em>whatever</em>. Aren’t you waiting for an Uber, or something?” Glimmer gave some snarky reply to that, but Catra was staring again at the jungle juice in her cup. Something seemed off, but she couldn’t put her finger on it—something about the fizz. A more sober version of herself probably would have pinpointed it instantly, but five or six beers tends to throw a wrench in the analytical gears.</p><p class="p1">She looked over her shoulder to the main bonfire, searching for the guy who’d brought over the drinks. He was chatting with a small group, sending the occasional look over his shoulder at Glimmer and Catra—but when they met eyes, he hurriedly turned his head away.</p><p class="p1">Mental alarm bells screamed. Catra sloshed the liquid in her cup ever so slightly, eyes locked on the bottom—and there it was.</p><p class="p1">A tiny chunk of a pill, still not fully dissolved.</p><p class="p1">Catra threw her drink into the dirt and shot to her feet, kicking away Glimmer’s cup barely a few inches from her lips. She grabbed Glimmer by the collar and hauled her to her feet, dragging her away from the bonfire and towards the road. Ignoring the girl’s slurred protests and weak attempts to pull away, Catra tightented her grip and desperately pawed at her pockets for her phone. She cursed—she’d left it in her bag by the bonfire where everyone else had put their things.</p><p class="p1">“Give me your phone, dude,” Catra barked, patting at Glimmer’s pants and finding the phone before the other girl could form a reply. On instinct, she dialed Adora’s number—she’d had it memorized all these years anyway, never able to put it out of her mind no matter how often she changed her own number or blocked Adora’s.</p><p class="p1">Catra turned to look back at the main group—a few of the frat brothers were looking at them curiously, a handful of them breaking away to stagger drunkenly in their direction as most everyone else grouped up to hike down to the beach. She needed to hurry.</p><p class="p1">The call was picked up after several seconds of nausea-inducing ringing. Catra nearly wept at the sound of Adora’s voice, thick with sleep and anxiety.</p><p class="p1">“<em>Glimmer? Is everything—</em>”</p><p class="p1">“Adora?” Catra whispered. She abruptly realized this night was the first time she'd spoken that name aloud in months, despite it living in her mind rent-free. The brimming tears fully spilled over as a blessed sight crested over the hilly road—headlights. At this time of night, it had to be the Uber.</p><p class="p1">“Catra?<em> What—</em>”</p><p class="p1">A storm of bitterness raged in Catra’s chest at the sharp tone, but this was no time to be a dick—much. “You don’t seem too happy to hear from me,” she drawled through her tears. “Adora, Glimmer’s on her way to your place in an Uber. I think someone drugged—<em>”</em></p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Wait, wait, what? You’re with Glimmer? At the bonfire?”</em>
</p><p class="p1">The Horde dudes were barely a few feet away, cruel, drunken grins spreading across their faces. As the Uber pulled up, Catra suddenly realized she’d walked herself into an uncomfortably isolated spot away from the party. If she could just cram herself in next to Glimmer, if she hadn’t taken a sip of the tainted drink, if she was just a little less drunk and more fucking <em>coordinated </em>right now—</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, but—” a sweaty hand suddenly came down hard on her shoulder, nearly knocking the phone from her grasp. At the same time, Catra kicked away another dude’s hand right before it locked onto Glimmer’s arm. “—Hey, don’t <em>fucking</em> touch her!”</p><p class="p1">The guys pawed and grabbed, Catra shouted and kicked, and Glimmer took in the whole mess with glazed eyes. Catra finally succeeded in landing a well-placed hip check that knocked Glimmer into the Uber.</p><p class="p1">“Fuck, Adora, just listen!”</p><p class="p1">Glimmer was fully in the backseat, calling Catra's name, but now a sea of hands gripped vice-like around Catra’s shoulders, her arms, tugging and pulling her away from the car to a chorus of taunting laughter. One of the brothers was in the midst of a shouting match with the Uber driver, his fingers wrapping around the door handle...</p><p class="p1">There was no more time.</p><p class="p1">“Adora, I’m sorry. For everything.”</p><p class="p1">Catra ended the call and ripped her arm free long enough to toss Glimmer’s phone into the girl’s lap and slam the car door. The wide-eyed driver hit the gas, speeding off in the direction of town; Glimmer was safe, at least for now. That left Catra holding the bag.</p><p class="p1">As the small group closed in on her, jeering and prodding, a glance between their shoulders at the bonfire sent a sharp chill down Catra’s spine— everyone else had already hiked down to the beach.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>—</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The bus squealed as Adora pulled off the road and slammed on the brakes. She and Bow tore open the doors and launched themselves out before coming to a full stop, taking off like the wind, kicking up dirt and pebbles behind them. They headed straight toward the orange glow of a bonfire.</p><p class="p1">Adora heard people, but couldn’t see them. She and Bow whipped their heads around, squinting against the bright glare of the flames. Suddenly, a sound she hadn’t heard in years shot ice through her spine—a high, raw sob that could only belong to Catra.</p><p class="p1">She grabbed Bow by the elbow and dragged him towards the source, somewhere on the other side of the bonfire. Her eyes struggled to acclimate to the dark after being bathed in the light of the flames, but she finally saw them.</p><p class="p1">Catra teetered by the cliff’s edge, encircled by a handful of jeering frat dudes. Her hair and clothes were disheveled, the front of her plaid shirt torn slightly. The tears streaming down her cheeks sparkled in the bright moonlight. In one shaking hand she held a jagged, broken bottle out towards the men, stabbing at the air as they inched closer and pulled back, laughing. Playing with her.</p><p class="p1">She looked feral, wild, a deity of fear, pain, and hate—Adora’s heart ached with longing at the sight of her as much as it shattered from seeing her like this.</p><p class="p1">The world erupted. Adora knocked someone down with a right hook and a kick, but took an elbow in the stomach when her bad shoulder screamed right as she pulled back for another punch. Bow immediately went to task on two dudes by himself, but Adora didn’t have time to worry about that now; she was making a beeline for the one frat guy who hadn’t turned to fight, having instead inched closer to Catra. He laughed as she jerked the bottle around, mere inches from his chest.</p><p class="p1">After smashing a dude’s cheekbone and taking a glancing kick to her knee, Adora had just a few more steps until she was on top of the guy making his way to Catra, far too close to the cliff’s edge for comfort. In one smooth motion Adora lunged for him, slamming him to the ground. She rose from unsteadily, muscles screaming, eyes locked on Catra, who seemed frozen to the spot.</p><p class="p1">Adora held out a shaking, bloody hand. The relief in the Catra’s eyes was thick, as was the fear—and shame.</p><p class="p1">“Why are you here?” Catra mumbled, frowning. Something about her glazed eyes—barely visible through her tangled hair—screamed <em>drugged </em>rather than just <em>drunk</em>. The fear in Adora’s chest sank its claws deeper.</p><p class="p1">“Catra, let’s go home,” Adora huffed, taking rapid breaths that rasped in her raw throat. “Come on, we gotta<em> go</em>!”</p><p class="p1">The confused look in Catra’s eyes suddenly turned desperate. She dropped the broken bottle to the dirt and held out a trembling hand, inching closer.</p><p class="p1">“Adora,” she whispered, taking another small step. Fresh tears fell from her eyes right before they widened in fear, locking onto something behind Adora’s shoulder.</p><p class="p1">Adora was hit hard from behind, crashing to the dirt in a cloud of dust. She flipped over as fast as her screaming muscles and shoulder allowed, grappling with the frat guy she’d tackled only a second ago. Up close like this, the reek of alcohol was clear, but he was still <em>strong. </em>She’d flipped him over and landed a few punches when her eye caught the outline of Catra, unthinkingly backing away from the fight and closer to the cliff’s edge.</p><p class="p1">In an instant, Adora reached out, the girl’s name on her lips, but it was too late; Catra’s eyes went wide as her foot slipped on the loose gravel, sending all her weight backwards.</p><p class="p1">The moment seemed to last forever. Adora stared, frozen with terror, one hand gripped around the frat guy’s collar and the other stretching farther and farther as if to snatch Catra before she disappeared over the edge.</p><p class="p1">In the next moment Catra was gone.</p><p class="p1">Terror and adrenaline burned through Adora, surging to her limbs like a lightning storm. With a roar that nearly shredded her throat, she clasped her hands together and brought them down on the frat guy’s face, breaking his nose in a gush of blood. He went limp, groaning.</p><p class="p1">Adora clambered to her feet and stumbled to the cliff’s edge, staring blankly at the choppy waters below. She could run down to the beach, but in that time Catra might drown. She was drunk, possibly drugged, and injured—the water was too cold and turbulent for her to swim even in a sober state.</p><p class="p1">Adora had to act <em>now. </em></p><p class="p1">She shouted for Bow, who turned—panting, sweaty, a little bloody—after landing a punch on one of the two frat guys who’d come after him, crumpling the guy to the ground in a heap. The other dude lay a few feet away, equally battered.</p><p class="p1">“Get the bus as close to the beach as you can. The keys are in the ignition," Adora said firmly, leaving no room for questions.</p><p class="p1">Bow took one look at the edge of the cliff, then back to Adora, eyes widening as he realized Catra wasn’t in sight. He nodded and ran towards the road.</p><p class="p1">Adora turned back to the ocean and took a deep breath, her gaze resolutely locked on the choppy waters below. After one step, then another, she jumped.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>so, uh. how's it going? drop a comment and let me know! hopefully the next chapter will be up soon-and with it, finally, comes the comfort.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. night shift</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>what happens after?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm alive!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"><em>That’s funny, </em>Catra thought. <em>Where am I?</em></p><p class="p1">Everything was an inky black, deeper than night. A chill swept over her in waves, digging deep beneath her skin, wrapping around her bones and squeezing.</p><p class="p1">Then, a sudden view of Orion’s belt.</p><p class="p1"><em>I’m dreaming, </em>Catra thought with great certainty as her perspective abruptly shifted. Now she looked over the sea of black—noting that it was actually the ocean, glistening under the moonlight—and watched a figure struggle to swim, dragging something behind them. The tides were cruel; the swimmer gasped for breath with every one-armed stroke, their long hair bobbing on the surface of the water like tangled seaweed. On some primal level Catra was positive that the swimmer was Adora, though she couldn’t see her face.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Wonder what a dream like this means.</em>
</p><p class="p1">An eternity later—or maybe it was only a moment, Catra couldn’t be sure—Adora crawled onto the sand, her cargo in tow. It was a person, impossibly small and fragile, splayed out motionless on the sand. Adora dragged them into her lap and cradled them close for a moment. Whispering something.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Wake up. Please wake up. I’m taking you home. Wake up.</em>
</p><p class="p1">Did Catra hear that, or imagine it? It was always impossible to tell with dreams. She was used to nightmares, anyway; this was pleasant in comparison, confusing though it was.</p><p class="p1">Adora gently laid the figure back on their side, clasped her hands together, and pressed them rhythmically to the unmoving chest, over and over.</p><p class="p1">Time seemed to pass in fits and starts as Adora continued giving compressions; a moment later, or maybe an eon, the small figure spluttered the tiniest bit. The dream vision went hazy, but only for an instant.</p><p class="p1">From above, Catra saw Adora gasp in relief, suddenly hefting the person into the air, supporting them with an arm under the thighs and another under their back. Adora trudged up the shore towards the tree line with all the purpose of a newlywed carrying their spouse—and she didn’t stop whispering, not for a single moment.</p><p class="p1">Sopping wet, crashing through twigs and bushes in her path, out of breath and wheezing, she continued to whisper.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Catra, please. </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Please come back.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Breathe for me. </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Keep breathing for me, please.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>I’m taking you home.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>It’s gonna be okay. </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>I promise. </em>
</p><p class="p1">Promise?</p><p class="p1">Abject terror swallowed Catra whole as she rocketed back into her own head, though she couldn’t move—her eyelids were welded shut, her limbs a deadweight, and she was so, so <em>cold, </em>even with the warmth of Adora’s chest and arms around her.</p><p class="p1">She remembered.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>The bonfire, the party, the cliff, the cliff, the CLIFF— </em>
</p><p class="p1">Her mind clenched into a fist, screaming, crying out against what she knew to be true—that she was dying, or had died, that her body ached all over with bruises and cuts, her hair torn out in chunks, clothes in tatters. She felt like a corpse, but also more alive than she’d ever been, each ragged breath driving that point home as they sawed in and out of her chest.</p><p class="p1">She was okay—for now—thanks to Adora.</p><p class="p1">Adora had come to get her. To save her.</p><p class="p1">She couldn’t fathom why.</p><p class="p1">Catra heard car doors opening; a light went on above her, pricking at her eyes behind their lids. She felt herself being lifted and placed down, then someone—Adora, it must be—scooting in beside her. A pair of calloused hands crushed and massaged Catra’s limp, icy fingers over and over, forcing blood into them.</p><p class="p1">Warm breath carried quiet words into her ear, the lips of the speaker close enough to feel. To kiss.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Please, please, please. We’re going home.</em>
</p><p class="p1">Catra clawed at consciousness, but lost. She slipped back into darkness, the sounds and sensations around her fading to silence.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>—</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Bow, <em>drive!</em>”</p><p class="p1">With a terse nod, Bow shifted gears and put the pedal to the floor. The bus stuttered, stalled, then shot forward as the tires finally gained traction on the sand. He was far past merely “pushing” the speed limit; as soon as they were back on the main road, the forest on either side of the bus flew by in a green smudge. With any luck, they’d be back in town within thirty minutes.</p><p class="p1">Shivering, Adora held Catra’s icy body close, keeping her steady as they rumbled along on the rough asphalt. The two of them were soaked to the bone, covered in sand and loose leaves. They must have looked like death.</p><p class="p1">Catra was taking shallow little breaths—thankfully—but her face still lacked life, <em>tension</em>, the normal ripples and tightness that Adora had spent years memorizing. The unconscious girl looked like clay, like she’d never had life in her to begin with. Every moment that Catra continued to lay still sent another spike of panicked anxiety surging through Adora’s stomach.</p><p class="p1">She wondered how Catra could look so <em>small</em>, cradled in her arms like this. Her wet, tangled hair spread out over Adora’s lap like a storm cloud; Adora could see that some of it had been chopped or torn haphazardly, probably during Catra’s fight with the frat brothers before she and Bow had arrived. She wanted to cry. She wanted to go back and <em>hurt </em>them.</p><p class="p1">More than anything, Adora found it impossible to reconcile the enormity of Catra’s waking presence—all fire and spice—with the frail, anemic body leaning against her. There was never a time in their lives that Adora had seen Catra this weak and fragile, even when they were toddlers.</p><p class="p1">A sharp pain in Adora’s shoulder drew her attention for a moment. It ached terribly from the fight and swimming in the freezing water, but nothing short of divine intervention could force her arms to move from where they supported Catra’s slender back and neck. If a busted shoulder was the only cost for saving Catra's life, for being there when she needed it most, Adora would pay it gladly. She would have given far more than that.</p><p class="p1">Some time went by—maybe five minutes, maybe a month, time felt like a constant unending <em>present</em> to Adora right now—and still, Catra didn’t wake. Her head lolled with each dip and bump in the road, lips moving ever so slightly as she sucked in small, raspy breaths that were almost too quiet to hear.</p><p class="p1">With a jolt, Adora realized that this was the first time she’d seen Catra in months. In that instant, she made up her mind.</p><p class="p1">She wanted to tell Catra the truth. She wanted to say, <em>I love you, I love you, I always did and I never knew, never figured out how to say it, please, don’t go, </em>but just as quickly as she’d found the resolve to confess, an invisible force clamped her lips shut.</p><p class="p1">No. She couldn’t say all of that any more than a blade of grass could tell the sun <em>I need you. </em>How could the weight of everything they’d been through be pushed aside? How could her stupid, uncalled-for feelings be more important than making sure Catra was okay? As soon as the girl was conscious, she’d probably want Adora to fuck off.</p><p class="p1">Then again…what if this was her only chance? What if Catra stopped breathing, and Adora couldn’t bring her back? What if she hadn’t been able to get her breathing again on the beach in the first place?</p><p class="p1">
  <em>What if, what if…?</em>
</p><p class="p1">After only a moment’s pause, Adora focused again on Catra’s face, tracing every edge and curve with her eyes. She leaned over and brought their foreheads together, flinching from the icy touch. Her eyes closed, and she listened to Catra’s quiet, strained breathing for what felt like forever, breathing with her, willing her to come back.</p><p class="p1">Finally, she was ready.</p><p class="p1">“Come on, Catra. You’re not done,” Adora began at barely above a whisper. “Not yet.” She squeezed her arms tighter, willing warmth into the smaller girl. “We’re going home.”</p><p class="p1">Maybe she imagined it, but Adora could have sworn that Catra’s breath hitched ever so slightly. She let the ghost of a smile cross her lips, fully intent now on revealing that which she herself had only figured out less than a day ago. Catra wouldn’t hear it, of course, would never know, but it was the <em>saying </em>that mattered now. No more time left to waste.</p><p class="p1">“Catra, just in case…I want you to know that I, uh, I lo-“</p><p class="p1">The bus screeched to a stop, nearly throwing the two of them into a heap. Bow was out of the driver’s seat and coming around to open the back of the bus in the blink of an eye.</p><p class="p1">“Adora, let’s get her inside,” he said, brow and mouth tight with concern. Adora nodded, gently shifting Catra towards Bow. She suddenly felt the weight of the night settle over her shoulders, all residual adrenaline seeping away. She was <em>tired </em>down to her bones.</p><p class="p1">Bow helped lift Catra out of the back, but Adora took back the full weight of the barely conscious girl as soon as they were both outside of the bus. From there, it took all that remained of Adora’s willpower and strength to put one foot in front of the other and get to the front door.</p><p class="p1">The sun was finally starting to break over the horizon, bathing the three of them in a misty orange glow, but the warmth wasn’t enough to bring the right amount of color back into Catra’s cheeks.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Warmth.</p><p class="p1">Catra nuzzled into it slowly, unthinkingly, dazedly—she folded her limbs and body into the warmth with the grace of a drunkard, pouring herself into it.</p><p class="p1">In a deep corner of her mind, she wondered what the source was. It was soft as hell and smelled achingly familiar—like laundry and grass, or something like that—but she was too enraptured by the heat washing over her stiff limbs to focus on anything besides the feeling itself. She danced around consciousness, but didn’t fully wake.</p><p class="p1">Suddenly, the source of warmth shifted. Catra frowned at the disturbance, her peace finally broken enough to crack open her eyes. It was too dark to see clearly; the only thing that stood out was the lumpy outline of whatever she’d wrapped herself around.</p><p class="p1">She was definitely in a (pretty firm) bed, covered by a few layers of blankets. After another moment, enough of her senses returned that she noticed the unfamiliar fit and texture of whatever clothes she had on.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Uh, where the fuck am I?</em>
</p><p class="p1">That achingly familiar warm scent finally flipped a switch somewhere in the back of her mind. Her mental gears turned, then screeched to a halt.</p><p class="p1">Catra snapped her head up to look into Adora’s sleeping face, finally able to focus her eyes enough to make out the blonde’s features in the dim room. She abruptly realized that <em>Adora </em>was the source of the warmth, the scent, and that Catra had basically tried to crawl into the girl’s skin. All at once, she fully registered the muscular arms wrapped around her, the whisper of Adora’s breath tickling across her face, the feeling of Adora’s chest and shirt beneath her cheek only a moment ago—</p><p class="p1"><em>How the fuck—</em>before the thought finished, memories hammered in her skull, their clarity and force staggering her. She nearly retched.</p><p class="p1"><em>That fucking bonfire, Glimmer, Jesus Christ.</em> <em>I thought they were gonna…I thought I was—</em></p><p class="p1">“Hey, Catra,” Adora mumbled through a yawn. After barely a second, her body went rigid, eyes shooting open. “Oh, fuck, you’re awake!”</p><p class="p1">“Wh-“ Catra wheezed as Adora’s arms tightened like a vice before pulling back just as quickly. She rose to a sit, taking the warmth with her. Catra barely held back an animalistic urge to <em>whine.</em></p><p class="p1">“Shit! Sorry! Don’t be weird, I just wanted to stay with you until you woke up—”</p><p class="p1">Catra coughed. She sat up in a half-slouch, groaning as the shift in blood pressure set her head pounding. Her mouth tasted like shit; she wondered how long it’d been since she’d last brushed her teeth.</p><p class="p1">“How long was I out? What time is it?”</p><p class="p1">“It’s 8pm,” Adora said after a glance at her watch, the light of the G-shock display illuminating her face a little better—she looked tired, pained. Still scared, too, but that was fading in favor of relief. “We slept all day, I guess.”</p><p class="p1">Before Catra could utter a shocked <em>fuck, really? </em>Adora rolled away and turned on a lamp next to the bed.</p><p class="p1">Sparse decoration aside from a few trophies, a cork board absolutely wallpapered with sticky notes…they were in Adora’s bedroom. Catra’s mind insisted on noting that this meant they were all cuddled up in <em>Adora’s bed</em>, but she pushed that thought away like it was on fire.</p><p class="p1">Catra sighed, recalling the last time she’d been in here. It was the night of the Tour de Franzia, that stupid bike ride thing. Thinking of their little drunken spat still drew a wince, but at least that one had blown over, though Catra’s epic meltdown at the end of the semester put it to shame…</p><p class="p1">It was a wonder that Adora cared about her at all after Catra had basically spat in her face and walked away, <em>multiple </em>times. Such a wonder, in fact, that she blurted out something to that effect before she could stop herself.</p><p class="p1">Adora turned suddenly, brow tight. “Wh-? Huh?”</p><p class="p1">Catra cringed. She wanted to shrug it off, but the sudden <em>need to know </em>consumed her, her exhaustion smashing any filters she might otherwise have had. She sighed and went on in a low voice.</p><p class="p1">“…why were you at the bonfire, dude? I already told you Glimmer was on her way out, you should’ve—“</p><p class="p1">“Catra, no. I couldn’t just <em>leave </em>you there. We called Scorpia and Perfuma, they met Glimmer here. She’s fine.” Adora pulled the blankets tighter around her torso almost defensively, scratching at the seam of one with a thumbnail. Nervous.</p><p class="p1">Catra looked deep into the clear blue of Adora’s eyes, searching. “I just…that was dangerous. It was stupid. You could have gotten into serious shit, and you had no reason—“</p><p class="p1">“Okay, sure, but—“</p><p class="p1">“<em>No, </em>Adora. I don’t <em>get it. </em>After…after everything?” Catra let out a shaky breath, squeezing her eyes tight.“Fuck. I just don’t get why you would come back for me—“</p><p class="p1">“Well why the hell wouldn’t—“</p><p class="p1">“Because we <em>both </em>know I don’t matter!“</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“You matter to <em>me!</em>” Adora nearly shouted, trembling from the force of her frustration, her <em>love. </em>The sudden outburst surprised them both, and the room fell silent.</p><p class="p1">Catra’s insistent self-loathing felt like a slap to the face—after all they’d been through, after <em>everything</em>, it was inconceivable that Catra could in any universe believe that she didn’t matter. Adora wanted to wrap her arms around the other girl, but something held her back; she instead settled for leaning closer and gently resting a palm against Catra’s cheek.</p><p class="p1">To Adora’s shock, Catra didn’t flinch away. Instead, she eyed the hand warily for a split second. Then her expression crumpled, eyes brimming with tears. She blinked hard and looked away. “I…I’m tired.”</p><p class="p1">Adora’s heart sank as Catra rolled over, facing the wall. She forlornly realized that the girl had just been through a veritable <em>shitload</em>, and she was more of the independent type, <em>and</em> she probably thought it was super weird that Adora was still in the bed, oh <em>God</em>—</p><p class="p1">Adora shot from the bed with a jolt. Catra barely twitched, back still turned. “I, uh, I’ll be on the couch,” Adora mumbled. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”</p><p class="p1">A barely audible grunt was the only reply. Adora’s shoulders slumped; she was struck by the insane urge to just <em>say it </em>and run out the door, but fuck, that would be nuts.</p><p class="p1">Right?</p><p class="p1">Adora accepted that she felt pretty nuts at present. She took a small step back towards the bed, wringing her hands.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, C—“ she began, cutting herself off as she registered Catra’s slow, deep breathing—she was already asleep. Sighing, but realizing that it was probably for the best, Adora clicked off the lamp and slipped from the room. She trudged downstairs, using her phone as a flashlight.</p><p class="p1">Scorpia and Perfuma were slumped over each other on the couch, totally knocked out. They must have stayed through the day while Adora and Catra slept. A look around with the flashlight also revealed the living room and kitchen to be far cleaner than it was a few days ago; she made a mental note to ask what she’d missed while sleeping the day away, and to thank the couple for helping to clean up the house.</p><p class="p1">As for Bow, he was nowhere to be found. Adora assumed he was with Glimmer in her bedroom, still watching over her. She wondered if the two of them had slept through the day as well.</p><p class="p1">Speaking of Glimmer, she’d been in fine condition when Bow and Adora had stormed into the house just that morning—according to Scorpia, she’d been lucid enough to freak out over Catra being left behind, fully aware of what had happened overall but foggy on specifics. Scorpia and Perfuma had kept an eye on her, not letting her sleep until it was clear that whatever she’d been doped with was wearing off.</p><p class="p1">By the time Adora had carried a still-unconscious, shivering Catra over the threshold, Glimmer had already been given the okay to be put to bed. Bow and Adora had shared a glance of understanding—though an understanding of what, Adora couldn’t be sure—before he darted off to Glimmer’s room. Adora had half expected Scorpia and Perfuma to crowd Catra, but they merely hung back, looking concerned. She was able to climb the stairs and lay the girl on her bed without any interference.</p><p class="p1">After stripping off her wet clothes in favor of some blissfully dry sweats and a tank top, Adora had then been faced with the awkward realization that Catra was still dressed in her ragged party clothes, soaked to the bone and covered in sand and dirt. She steeled herself with a deep breath and set to the task of undressing the girl as un-creepily as possible, though it still felt like an invasion of Catra’s privacy.</p><p class="p1">It wasn’t like she’d never helped the girl get dressed or undressed before—for Christ’s sake, they’d grown up together, but…well.</p><p class="p1">Either way, she hadn’t gotten far; as soon as she tugged at the hem of Catra’s jeans, the other girl snapped awake in a frenzy, clawing for Adora’s face. She just barely avoided getting blinded before gently capturing Catra's wrists, trying to soothe her in low tones and telling her what was happening—it was just Adora, she was safe, she just needed to strip off the wet clothes and put something warm on, and would she <em>please </em>stop trying to punch Adora in the trachea?</p><p class="p1">After about ten seconds of struggling with the girl (who Adora realized wasn’t <em>truly</em> awake, prodding her to wonder if this was similar to what Catra saw when Adora fought in her sleep as a kid), she finally relaxed enough to let Adora quickly strip her out of her wet clothes and into some loose sweats and a t-shirt. Adora had slipped the latter over Catra’s head from behind, taking great care to avert her eyes (though not able to take enough care to miss the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra).</p><p class="p1">As soon as Adora was finished, Catra slumped against her like a deadweight, out like a light. With a half-pained, half-amused sigh, Adora carefully shifted both of them under the blankets. She needed to pee pretty badly, but oh well—it would have to wait.</p><p class="p1">That’s when Catra had suddenly nestled even closer against her, fitting their bodies together like two puzzle pieces. She must have been subconsciously seeking the warmth of Adora’s torso, locking on and dedicating herself to absorbing every ounce of it.</p><p class="p1">Through her haze of exhaustion, Adora had barely noticed the slow, progressive intertwining of their limbs, the subtle (mutual?) movements closer—before she fully realized what was happening, they were <em>spooning</em>. Adora laid still, marveling for an eternity at the girl laying next to her. Still a bit dirty, more than a little scuffed up, but beautiful and <em>alive</em> nonetheless. Eventually, she’d fallen into a comfortable, dreamless sleep.</p><p class="p1">Presently, Adora sighed. She tiptoed past where Scorpia and Perfuma slept to the kitchen and filled a glass with water from the sink, chugging it greedily, fighting the residual grogginess from having slept through the daytime. After a visit to the bathroom, she was ready to bed down again.</p><p class="p1">Despite the snoozing couple, there was still plenty of room for her to sleep on the L-shaped couch. Not bothering with digging around for a blanket or more pillows, Adora laid back on the bare cushions and slowly fell into an uneasy sleep, holding tightly to the memory of having Catra pressed up against her, safe and warm, but dreading the words that might pass between them in the morning.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hi all!</p><p>thanks so, so much everyone who is still reading this and waited so (fucking) long for another chapter. Life is crazy!! I got engaged, am bailing out of my grad school a lot earlier than anticipated, etc. etc. etc. Shit happens!</p><p>I know this chapter was a little short but I thought it was important to be like. Hey, I'm alive, and yes, I'm finishing this.</p><p>We're almost to the finish line, btw. Just a few more. </p><p>And no, I won't take like 5 months to post the next one this time. I promise!</p><p>also, I went through and edited all the old chapters! no big changes, just some tidying.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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